Hidden Motives
by laurajslr
Summary: On waking with no memory of the previous night, Merlin finds himself accused of Arthur's attempted murder. With all evidence pointing to him and no way to disprove it, Merlin must face the possibility that he is now a threat to the Once and Future King.
1. Chapter 1

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Okay, so I'm back sooner than I anticipated, but I just wanted to start posting. That said, I really haven't written very much of this (I'm currently on chapter 3) and so I think there will only be weekly updates, at least for now.

So, this story. It's set not long after series 3, maybe a couple of months, but before series 4. It's mostly from Merlin's POV, but I'm sure Arthur will sneak in there in later chapters. This first chapter is quite short, but the rest will be longer.

Anyway; enough said. Hope you like it and please review!

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**Chapter 1**

As much as Merlin liked waking up to the sound of birdsong, he preferred it when he knew why he was waking up to birdsong, and as he lay their with his eyes closed and a headache pounding his skull mercilessly, he realised that he hadn't got a clue as to where he was. It was definitely morning; the smell of the air and the sound of the dawn chorus were enough of a clue, and he was relatively certain that he was outside if the feel of tree roots sticking into his back were anything to go by, but still, he couldn't recollect how he had come to be there.

He opened his eyes a crack and the sprinkled sunlight that was making its way through the canopy sent pain flashing through his head. He shut them again quickly and then shielded his face with his arm before slowly opening them once more. It took several seconds, but eventually his eyes adjusted to the light and he found himself even more at a loss than he had been before. Where was he? A forest, that was for sure, but he didn't recognise anything and Arthur had dragged him around enough of Camelot's woods and forests that he was relatively certain he could now recognise specific trees. He sat up slowly, his head still aching and his clothes soaked through from his night on the forest floor. Mud clung to the material in thick clumps and he tried to brush it off.

Standing to his feet, he found himself swaying dangerously and reached out for a nearby tree to steady himself. The pain in his head was awful and he quickly muttered a spell to dampen it. That done, and his ability to think slightly improved, he gingerly ran a hand over the back of his hair and cringed as he felt the matted lumps of it, crusty with something that he knew would be blood. That would explain the throbbing in his skull. What on earth had happened?

He put his back to the tree and rested against it, closing his eyes and trying to calm the queasiness that was beginning to pulse through him. He took several deep breaths, sucking in the fresh air to try and settle his rolling stomach. When he finally felt like he could move without throwing up, Merlin opened his eyes and looked around, searching for any clues: firstly as to his whereabouts and secondly as to what had happened to him last night.

He tried to remember what he had been doing yesterday. He had been running errands for Gaius during the morning -he remembered that- and then he'd tidied up Arthur's room after lunch, but he drew a blank on the afternoon and evening.

Arthur. Surely if he was out here in the middle of nowhere then Arthur was as well. They always got into these scrapes together. He surveyed the ground around him, looking for any sign of the Prince, but there was nothing. A quick glance at the forest floor confirmed that there was only one set of footprints leading to the place where he had found himself lying and there was nothing for several metres in any direction that suggested anybody else had been here with him.

Surely Arthur would have sent out a search party for him by now. Merlin snorted to himself; he doubted Arthur had even noticed that he was missing. Although, what with everything that had happened over the last few months, it was possible that Arthur might show a tiny bit more concern over Merlin's whereabouts than he had been known to in the past. What with Morgana's betrayal revealed and Uther's health rapidly declining, Arthur was under more strain than he had ever been before and it was making him cautious and alert, likely to become defensive and concerned over very small things. He was jumpy, that was the only way to describe it, and it was unlike Arthur. Although over the last week or so he had seemed to rally a little more. Perhaps he had decided that he couldn't live with the threat of Morgana looming over him, or perhaps it had something to do with the fact that his uncle, Agravaine, would be arriving in two weeks time. Merlin hoped that the man's arrival would give Arthur the sense of stability that he was lacking with his father so much out of action.

With a sigh, Merlin looked around once more and decided that all he could really do now was head back to Camelot. He desperately hoped that he hadn't wandered round aimlessly for too long because he wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to stay on his feet. Realising that he had no other choice, he gingerly began moving forwards, following his footprints back the way they had come.

It took a long time, but eventually he found himself in more familiar parts of the woods. He must have been walking for hours to end up where he did. Recognition of where he was gave him a new burst of energy and he found that his pace picked up and he felt less likely to faint at any given moment. His focus away from his physical state, Merlin began to try and piece together the events of the previous night. He had evidently fallen, or been hit in the head; he hoped it wasn't the latter as being attacked seemed like a much worse scenario than just succumbing to his usual clumsiness. His memory loss was probably also down to the bump; he'd seen Gaius treat plenty of people who had suffered a similar injury and lost their memories. In most cases, their memory returned; he could only hope that would be the case for him.

If, however, he _had_ been attacked, he needed to work out what had happened. Could it be Morgana? Yes, she had now revealed her allegiance to Morgause, but he doubted she would try and attack the Kingdom again already and why would she attack him of all people? Yes, he had irritated her no end during her final months in Camelot, but she had never seen him as any real threat. Unless, of course, she _had _hatched another plot, which Merlin had found out about. Perhaps he had been going to tell Arthur and Morgana had tried to kill him in order to stop him. Merlin sighed. It was a possibility, but he doubted that he would still be alive if Morgana had followed him and found him unconscious in the middle of the forest. It wasn't really her style to show mercy. Not anymore.

So maybe there had been another enemy trying to kill Arthur with only Merlin to stand in their way? Perhaps, but, barring yesterday afternoon and evening, Merlin could remember all that had been going on in Camelot and nothing had seemed amiss. Maybe he had just really annoyed Arthur and the Prince had decided to try and kill him. Merlin wouldn't put it past him if he was in one of his moods.

But none of those explanations seemed to resonate in Merlin and so he trudged on, resigning himself to that fact that for now at least, he would have to stop worrying about how he had found his way out of Camelot and instead concentrate on finding his way back there without his head injury becoming too much of a problem.

The forests soon gave way to the plains that stretched out from the city. It was a relief for him to see the familiar walls and the usual traffic of people, carts and animals making their way into and out of the city. He joined the main road up to it, getting a few odd looks from the early morning traders who were heading into the city with their wares. He ignored them as best he could and then brushed at his clothes again, trying to get rid of some more of the mud that caked them. He really could do with looking less like a nomadic traveller and more like the manservant of the Prince. A few flakes of dried mud fell to the ground and so he turned his attention to his face, scrubbing at the skin there, trying to rub off some of the grime. Finally, he turned his attention to his hair and tried to smooth it into some semblance of order, but the injury at the back of his head made that trickier and when touching it heightened the pain once again, he decided to leave it for now.

Before long, he was walking through the city gates. He felt more relaxed as he realised that there were no warning bells ringing and the people looked calm; there was no screaming, no crates overturned or belongings strewn across the streets. A good day in Camelot. That ruled out his enemy attack theory. There were, however, an increased number of soldiers and knights out on the streets. Evidently things weren't going as smoothly as Arthur wanted everyone to believe. Merlin had been in Camelot long enough to know when the city was on alert.

His first instinct was to find Arthur and ask what was happening, but his vision was beginning to blur and he was feeling a little shaky on his feet. Gaius seemed like the better option for now. He dreaded to think what his mentor would make of his current state, but perhaps he could shed some light on the situation. He hadn't even made it into the palace courtyard when shouting from behind him caught his attention.

'There he is!'

Instinctively, Merlin turned to see what had got the soldiers so rattled, only to frown in shock when he saw them pointing at him. Immediately, they raced towards him, and on instinct, Merlin backed up several paces. This only made them start yelling louder, telling him to stay put, and so he stopped, knowing how insistent Camelot's fighters could be. He recognised several of the soldiers, although he couldn't name many of them, but the knight who was with them made him relax. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

'Lancelot,' he called. 'What's going on?'

But his friend didn't smile and he made no move to stop the soldiers as they roughly grabbed him, causing him to stagger in his weakened state. Lancelot moved closer, his face grave.

'What's happened? What's going on?' Merlin asked him, worried now at the solemnity in his expression and posture. Had something happened to Arthur? No, if there was something wrong with the Prince, the rumours would have made it out of the castle by now and he'd be able to sense it in the attitudes of the people. He looked at Lancelot again.

'Merlin,' he said heavily, 'you're under arrest for the attempted murder of Prince Arthur.'

Of all the possibilities that had crossed through Merlin's mind, that had not been one of them.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thank you for such a lovely response to the first chapter. I'm back sooner than I expected, but it there may still be a weekly wait between chapters after this. We shall have to see. Anyway, a review reminded me of something I should have mentioned last time. This won't be a slash story. I'm very much a bromance fan and there will be plenty of that.

Well, here's the second chapter. Please review!

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**Chapter 2**

'What?' Merlin asked incredulously as the soldiers tightened their grip on him once more and began leading him to the castle. 'Lancelot, what are you talking about?' Merlin asked, but his friend's face stayed in its mask of grim resignation. That infuriated Merlin even more and he tried to stand his ground and lock his feet against the floor, but the soldiers were much too strong for him and they continued to drag him through the castle courtyard, barely registering his attempt to fight back. He opened his mouth to shout again, but saw Lancelot subtly shake his head, conveying in a glance that for now it would be best for him to submit. Reluctantly, Merlin stayed quiet and allowed himself to be taken down to the dungeons, the castle staff watching him with either deep distrust or utter disbelief.

Before he knew it, he was being thrown into a cell and his injuries meant that he crashed to the ground, twisting his wrist as he tried to soften his fall. He heard the clang of the bars and pushed himself to a kneeling position.

'Go and inform the King and Prince,' he heard Lancelot tell the soldiers. The clinking of their armour disappeared down the hallway as they followed orders. As quickly as he could, which wasn't very quick due to the dizziness that had suddenly overtaken him, Merlin turned round and looked at Lancelot. His friend had crouched down so that he was on eye level with Merlin; his face was solemn, but not accusing. Merlin felt a small spark of relief flick through him at the realisation that Lancelot was still on his side, at least for now. Haltingly, Merlin crawled forward and then sat up, resting his head and body against the bars.

'Merlin, where have you been?' he asked urgently.

'I was in the forest.'

'Why?'

'I don't know; I can't remember anything about how I got there or about leaving Camelot and I can't remember anything about yesterday afternoon and evening. What is going on? Why am I being accused of trying to kill Arthur?'

'Because you did try to,' Lancelot replied heavily.

'That's ridiculous,' Merlin retorted. 'Do you realise how stupid that sounds?'

'I know, Merlin. Trust me; when I heard it I could barely believe it. But you were seen.'

'By who? Who's accusing me?' Merlin demanded; some fight coming back into his tone in his frustration. Lancelot sighed and looked away. 'Who's accusing me?'

'Arthur is,' he replied quietly.

'What?' Merlin whispered. He felt the words like a physical blow in his chest and for several seconds he couldn't catch his breath. Arthur was making the accusation? Arthur believed Merlin had tried to kill him? That was impossible. Arthur trusted him more than anyone else; what was more, Arthur knew completely and utterly that Merlin could be trusted above anyone else. 'I would never…this is…' he couldn't think of how to finish the sentence. What had happened last night? It was that question that he voiced to Lancelot. The knight shook his head.

'I don't know; no-one does really. There are rumours that the two of you were arguing, some of the servants say they heard loud bangs.'

'This is impossible,' Merlin replied, a numb shock descending on him. 'You know that I would never do anything to hurt Arthur.'

'I know, Merlin, but he thinks you did.'

'How can Arthur of all people think that? Has he been enchanted?' Merlin added suddenly as the thought crossed his mind. 'That would explain everything.'

'He hasn't been acting strangely.'

'He's accused me of trying to kill him!' Merlin snapped incredulously.

'No, you'll see what I mean when he comes and sees you,' Lancelot said gravely. 'I don't think he's been enchanted.' Merlin didn't reply; if Arthur was coming to see him, he would be able to get more information. 'Merlin,' Lancelot continued hesitantly after a pause. Merlin looked up. 'Have you thought about the possibility that it could be you that's been enchanted?'

'I'd be able to sense it, I'm sure.'

'But what if you couldn't? What if someone's learnt about you and enchanted you? You're in the perfect position to kill Arthur. You spend more time with him than anyone and if you wanted to kill him, you'd have hundreds of chances everyday.' The knight spoke more and more quickly as he went on, rushing to get his thoughts out in the open and out of the way. He didn't want to say them - that much was obvious - but perhaps they needed to be said.

Against his better judgement, Merlin considered his friend's words. Was it possible that someone was using him to get to Arthur? No, he'd have felt it, surely he would have. And besides, it would take a very powerful sorcerer to bewitch him and he had sensed nothing magically amiss in the last few months. There had to be another explanation.

'I don't-' he began, but the sound of heavy boots stopped him. Lancelot quickly got to his feet and moved a few paces back so it looked like he was guarding the cell.

'Lancelot,' he called. His friend looked at him. 'You know I would never harm Arthur. All I've ever done is protected him.'

'I know,' Lancelot whispered, but there was a hopelessness in the way he said it. They were prevented from saying anymore by the arrival of the visitors, several of them by the sound of it. From this angle, Merlin could just about make out Arthur striding towards him; his face was solemn and pale; a frozen mask of determination, but Merlin could see through it to the uncertainty beneath. Arthur quickly dismissed Lancelot, who gave Merlin a quick glance as he left. Hastily, Merlin pulled himself up on the bars of the cage.

'Arthur!' he called desperately, but was stopped when, to his surprise and horror, he saw Uther right behind him, looking pale and slightly hunched, but furiously determined. His eyes were black with rage and his jaw was set. Merlin could hardly believe what he was seeing. Uther had barely been out of his chambers for weeks, still reeling after Morgana's betrayal. It was whispered among the servants that he was all but bed-ridden and had given up on life. Evidently, an alleged attack on his son was enough to snap him out of his dark recollections.

'You will address the Prince as his rank deserves, boy,' came Uther's voice, as hard as flint. Merlin felt fear creep through him; he had been on the receiving end of Uther's anger on more than one occasion and he did not relish experiencing it again now.

'Sire,' he said instead, addressing Uther as courteously as he could; lowering his eyes and dropping his head.

'You are accused, boy, of attempting to kill your Prince.'

'Sire-' Merlin began quietly.

'Silence!' he shouted, stepping menacingly towards the bars of the cell. 'You have been found guilty and will be executed in two days time at sunrise.'

Merlin felt his head reel at the words. Executed?

'My Lord,' he spluttered, finally finding the nerve to look up. Uther was already turning away from him, but Arthur was watching him closely, looking for something. Perhaps proof that his suspicions were wrong. 'I have no recollection of the events of yesterday, but I swear to you, I would never do anything to harm your son.'

'You believe I would take into account your words over that of my own son, the crown Prince and the second highest authority in the realm after myself?' Uther hissed, swinging back round to fix him with a glare of contempt. 'You will die in dishonour; the punishment you justly deserve.' With that he turned and headed back up the corridor. 'Arthur,' he called on seeing that his son wasn't following.

'I wish to question the prisoner further and find out what his betrayal has stemmed from,' Arthur replied, his tone full of the Princely authority that he reserved for official occasions of state and occasionally for winding Merlin up. Merlin felt his hopes diminish further at the sound of it.

'Arthur, please, you have to believe me,' Merlin whispered urgently as the last sounds of the King faded. Arthur's head snapped round to meet his gaze.

'What do you mean you have no memory of yesterday?' he asked.

'What?'

'Merlin!' he snapped, infuriated. Merlin frowned, this Arthur seemed very familiar.

'I woke up in the forest this morning and I haven't got a clue what happened. I banged my head; I think it's affected my memory.' He turned round so that Arthur could see the injury, which he was sure didn't look too good.

'So you…?'

'So I don't remember trying to kill you,' Merlin replied, relaxing somewhat at Arthur's far from accusing words. 'Arthur, you know full well that I'd never hurt you.'

'You give me headaches a lot of the time.'

'This is serious,' Merlin snapped, taking his turn at being infuriated. 'In case you hadn't noticed, your father is going to execute me.' Arthur sobered at the words and nodded. 'What happened? What makes you think I tried to kill you?'

'Because you did!'

'That's not possible.'

'No, Merlin, what's not possible is me walking into my room to find you lacing my goblet with poison, and yet that's what happened.'

'What?'

'Last night. I finished training early and came back to my room to find you tipping a vial of poison into my wine.'

Merlin frowned, and shook his head. None of this was ringing any bells. Yes, he would have been in Arthur's room at around that time, but no, he wouldn't have been trying to poison him.

'Perhaps I was putting medicine in it; you know how much you hate taking it.'

'Does this look like medicine to you?' Arthur asked him, pulling out a vial from his pocket and presenting it to Merlin. Merlin saw the tell tale sign of the skull and cross bone decorating the outside of it.

'That's what he was holding?' Merlin asked.

'That's what _you_ were holding. I even went and checked with Gaius; it was missing from his stores.'

'It wasn't me, Arthur,' Merlin argued, feeling confusion begin to muddle his thoughts. This couldn't be happening. 'It must have been someone else.'

'Have you got an evil twin brother that you haven't told me about?' Arthur asked sarcastically.

'No, but what about an imposter?'

'It was you.'

'How can you be so sure?'

'Because you got the head injury while you were in my room,' Arthur sighed.

'What?' Merlin asked. Arthur shook his head and closed his eyes. That more than anything made Merlin believe him, but he still wanted answers. 'How did I get it?'

'I came in and you were there, so I challenged you about it. You started yelling and spouting some rubbish about the gods decreeing that the Pendragon house was unfit to rule and-'

'Wait, what?' Merlin asked.

'That's what you said.'

'And that wasn't a clue that it wasn't me?' Merlin asked incredulously.

'What other explanation have you got, Merlin?' Arthur asked him angrily. 'I've spent the entire night trying to work out another possibility, and 'imposter' was the first on my mind, until you showed up this morning with no memory of last night and a head injury you got when you tried to attack me and I pushed you back.' He sighed in defeat and lowered his tone again. 'You hit your head against the table then got up and ran. I called the guards, but there was no sign of you anywhere.'

'It can't have been me,' Merlin whispered, but there was less conviction in his tone now. There was no doubt that the evidence was stacked against him. He looked desperately at Arthur again. 'You believe me, don't you?' he asked.

'I've been betrayed before,' Arthur said heavily.

'Morgana's different. She had motive and you can see the signs now, looking back,' Merlin argued. 'When have I ever given you cause to question my loyalty?'

'Never,' Arthur agreed quietly, 'until last night.'

'Arthur,' Merlin pleaded.

'I don't know what to think, Merlin.'

'You know me; you know that you can trust me. There has to be some explanation.'

'Then give me one.'

Merlin fell silent for several moments, going back over all that he had found out, but nothing seemed to come to mind. There was nothing in the way Arthur was acting that suggested he was lying, nothing suggesting that he was being enchanted. Everything in his story rang true.

'Perhaps I was enchanted,' he offered reluctantly. There was nothing else he could think of.

'Give me an explanation that I can give to my father which won't get you executed even more quickly,' Arthur sighed in frustration. 'As soon as he was informed, he sent out search parties. He came and saw me; he got his manservant to dress him in his robes and then marched down to my room. I haven't seen him so alert and awake since…' he fell silent. Morgana's betrayal still pressed heavily on father and son.

'I don't know what else to say,' Merlin replied. 'I'd never kill you. I'd never try and poison you. Come on, Arthur, I drank poison for you when I'd only been your servant a few weeks.'

'I know that!' Arthur said through gritted teeth. 'But I can't go to my father and say that you're enchanted. He'll just kill you today.'

'Then we need to find proof and a way to reverse it.'

'And how are we supposed to do that? What's more, how are we supposed to test it works? Leave you alone in a room with me and hope you don't try and kill me?'

Merlin resisted the urge to sigh heavily at his patronising tone.

'You need to do some research; get Gaius to help you. He'll be able to find out what's happened and then find a way to reverse it.'

'How am I supposed to research magical spells? I'm the Prince whose father hates magic and kills anyone who studies it.'

'You're hardly studying it are you,' Merlin replied. 'And I would offer to help, but I'm certain that letting me roam free around Camelot is also quite high on your father's list of things he hates.'

An uneasy silence fell between them and Arthur, uncharacteristically, shifted uncertainly. It made Merlin feel even more uncomfortable.

'What is it?' Merlin asked. Arthur didn't reply for several seconds, instead looking round at the walls of the dungeon. 'Arthur?' Eventually, the Prince looked at him.

'What if all of this,' he gestured at Merlin, 'what if it's all an act? What if the person I'm talking to right now isn't actually Merlin, but some creature who's possessing him or enchanting him? Or some imposter who's spinning this extravagant story for his own purposes?'

Merlin opened his mouth to reply, but found that he had nothing to say. Arthur's argument was irrefutable and impossible to dispel.

'There isn't anything I can say to disprove that,' he admitted. 'I know that I'm me, but there's no way I can prove it to you.'

'And yet you expect me to do as you ask when it could be leading me into a trap?' Arthur murmured.

'I'm not leading you into a trap, Arthur,' he replied sadly, knowing once again that he couldn't assure the Prince of the truth in his words. Arthur turned away and began pacing in the narrow space of the corridor. Merlin watched him, knowing that he couldn't break the silence, not just yet. Arthur needed to come to this decision on his own; Merlin only hoped it would be the right one.

The Prince sighed heavily and came to stand by the bars, slamming his hand into them in his frustration.

'What if you're not, Merlin?' he asked harshly, demanding an answer. Merlin couldn't give him one, not one that would help. What if he wasn't actually himself; what if even _he_ was being fooled by a force that had overtaken him and made him its puppet?

'What if I _am_ him?' he asked instead; slowly and sadly. 'I can't make up your mind for you Arthur. This is your decision.'

Arthur stared at him for several seconds and then closed his eyes and pushed away from the bars.

'I need to think about this,' he muttered.

'Alright,' Merlin nodded, realising that at this point, Arthur's consideration of his innocence would probably be the best that he could hope for. The Prince straightened up and began walking down the corridor.

'I'll send Gaius to treat your head injury,' he called back, not looking at Merlin, his voice distracted and emotionless.

'Thank you,' Merlin called after him, but his voice was swallowed up in the echo of the Prince's boots on the floor. A few seconds later the telltale slam of the dungeon door plunged the area into silence. Merlin slid back down the bars until he was sitting, his knees tucked up against his chest and his head bowed against them. His head rang with Arthur's words telling a story of an unrecognisable version of himself. Everything inside him screamed that Arthur had to have been mistaken or had to have misread what he saw; nothing in him would ever want to hurt Arthur. Nothing. And yet here he was, accused of a crime that he couldn't remember committing or not committing. He had no defence; no way of proving his innocence and already a dark thought was beginning to creep through him: maybe he _had_ done it, maybe his only possible explanation was the correct one. He had been enchanted; he had been taken over by some malevolent force. What if this force realised his potential as a wielder of magic? Merlin shuddered at the thought; he knew the devastation that he could rain down on people if he chose to use his power for evil. Killing Arthur would only be the beginning.

He shook his head and forced the thoughts from his mind; he could already feel their darkness stripping away at his rapidly disintegrating composure. He would wait for Gaius and see what the physician said. If anyone could shed light on the situation it would be him. And so Merlin waited; the sound of his quiet breaths his only company.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thanks very much for the reviews. Here's chapter three! Hope you like it and please review!

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**Chapter 3**

'Merlin.'

Merlin heard the voice as if from a distance. It was like trying to hear and think through a fog, but when the voice called his name again he found that he recognised it as Gaius. Relief flooded through him and he forced his eyes open, grimacing in pain as he did. Gaius' concerned face was the first thing he saw and he allowed the man to pull him into a sitting position.

'Gaius. Am I glad to see you,' he whispered, closing his eyes again as his head throbbed.

'What have you got yourself into now, Merlin?' he asked sadly.

'I have no idea, but it doesn't make any sense at all.' He opened his eyes again and saw the soldier standing guard outside the cell, having locked Gaius into it. 'You haven't been arrested as well, have you?' Merlin asked in alarm.

'Arthur asked me to come and treat your injuries,' he explained, holding his medicine bag up by way of explanation and nodding at the basin of clean water on the floor. 'Let me have a look.' Slowly Merlin turned round and then gingerly reached up to feel the cut. Gaius swatted his hand away and began to bathe the wound. It stung a lot and Merlin had to bite his lip to make sure that he didn't start complaining. After a few minutes, when the guard seemed to have lost interest in the treatment, Merlin heard Gaius' voice, no louder than a whisper.

'Arthur came and told me what you said to him earlier.'

'What do you think, Gaius? Is it possible that something's controlling me?'

'I don't know. There are many spells that can induce such actions.'

'But on me?' Merlin asked.

'You're not impervious to enchantments, Merlin.'

'So you think I did it? You think I tried to kill Arthur?' he asked. There was no accusation in his voice, just a desperate resignation.

'I'm not saying that.'

'But you can't think of another explanation,' Merlin continued for him. There was a slight pause.

'No,' the man admitted sadly as he put down the cloth and began to dab a soothing salve onto the gash.

'Gaius,' Merlin pressed. 'Did I say anything to you yesterday afternoon, anything at all that seemed odd?'

'I didn't see you yesterday after breakfast, remember. I left you a list of errands because I was working in the lower town all day.'

'I remember that,' Merlin nodded and then hissed at the sudden movement. 'But wasn't there anything else?'

'I didn't see you,' Gaius repeated. 'It wasn't until I got back and found Arthur pacing in my quarters that I knew anything was wrong.'

'And it was definitely a poison?'

'Merlin; it was the deadliest poison that I have in my quarters. It was locked away. Who else would have been able to open the chest it was in without the key?' he finished sadly.

Merlin said nothing as Gaius wrapped a bandage around his injuries. Once that was done he placed his head in his hands. How was this possible?

'Gaius, what am I supposed to do?' Merlin asked him desperately. He turned round so that he was facing his mentor and friend, but Gaius' face was heavy and he shook his head sadly.

'I don't know, Merlin. For now, all I can do is try and find out what could possibly be affecting you and then find a way of removing the spell. You'll be able to do it yourself once we know what it is.'

'Did Arthur speak to you about helping with the research?' Merlin asked him hopefully.

'No, but he did instruct me to start looking and that is perhaps the best we can hope for. If Arthur is on your side then maybe he can speak to Uther and try and put back your execution.'

'And if Uther won't listen, Gaius? What then? What if you don't find anything in the next two days?' Gaius looked at him sadly and then leant closer, ensuring that the guard definitely couldn't hear any of their conversation –not that he had shown any signs of hearing it so far.

'You'll be able to flee before then if it comes to that.'

'Run away?'

'Survive,' Gaius argued. 'But we may yet find something that will clear your name.'

Merlin nodded at him and gave a weak smile, but it was for Gaius' benefit; it had nothing to do with his own optimism over the outcome. He had done enough magical research over the last few years to know that finding specific spells as well as working out how to perform them could take weeks, and that was even with his ability to read things incredibly quickly when he needed to. There was no way that Gaius on his own would be able to find the correct spell in time unless the right book fell open on the right page by some stroke of luck.

'Time's up,' the guard called gruffly from outside the cell. His keys jangled noisily as he unlocked the door and ushered Gaius out with a firm nod towards the corridor. Gaius gathered his supplies slowly. Merlin knew he was doing it on purpose; taking his time so that he could offer a few extra seconds of companionship and comfort, but there was only so long that you could make a prison guard wait.

'Thank you, Gaius,' Merlin whispered as the man finally got up to go.

'Make sure you don't fall asleep for a few hours, but do try and get some rest, my boy,' he smiled back. As much as the old man tried to hide it, Merlin could see that he was worried. That only worried him further. Gaius was nothing if not a realist; how many times had Merlin been on the receiving end of Gaius' measured words telling him to consider the folly of a plan or accept the reality of a situation? He'd lost count. If Gaius was worried, regardless of what he had said about finding the spell in time, then Merlin knew he needed to be as well. He watched his mentor walk slowly down the corridor with the guard. Within seconds they were out of sight. As soon as they were, Merlin made his way over to the pile of straw and rags that were supposedly there to provide some comfort. He curled up on them but, heeding Gaius' warning, made sure that he didn't close his eyes. Instead he stared unseeingly at the wall, letting their monotony calm the swirl of emotions that were twisting through him.

* * *

The hours passed achingly slowly and yet dizzyingly fast. Through the barred windows above him, he could just about track the progress of the sun through the sky. It climbed high and began to sink again before Merlin had another visitor. It gave him too much time; too much time to do nothing, to feel helpless. He could be doing so much more good if he was researching with Gaius. For a moment he considered calling Kilgharrah and asking him for some advice, but then realised that having a dragon crash into Camelot probably wouldn't help.

So instead he sat staring at blank walls and lying on scratchy straw and rock, trying not to think of his impending execution and trying not to dwell on the fact that his last two days of life were being spent so purposelessly. At first he hadn't minded being on his own –he had never been one to be afraid of his own company- but when he finally did hear the prison doors opening and hear footsteps heading towards him, he inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He looked up, hoping to see Gaius, expecting to see Arthur and finally being surprised to see Lancelot. He quickly stood up and came to stand by the bars, grasping the cold metal in his hands.

'Anything?' he asked, once Lancelot had shooed the dungeon guard out of he corridor.

'Arthur's got us all out searching, secretly of course so that Uther doesn't find out. Gwaine, Elyan, all of us.'

'Searching for what?'

'Anything that could be linked to magic. He's made his decision, Merlin; he's trying to prove that you weren't in control of your actions.' Merlin closed his eyes and bowed his head against the bars in relief. He had hoped and guessed that Arthur would believe him, but he hadn't been completely certain up until now. 'Gwaine made his position quite clear,' Lancelot continued wryly. At the words, Merlin smiled for the first time in hours.

'I bet he did,' he replied and then looked at Lancelot. 'Thank you.'

'Don't mention it; we all know it's not in you to harm Arthur.'

'So has Arthur spoken to Uther? Gaius was going to ask him to get the execution pushed back.'

Lancelot shook his head.

'No, he wants to wait until he's got something he can show to his father.'

'You haven't found anything then?' Merlin asked. He knew it was unlikely that they would have found anything so soon, but now that he knew efforts were being made to save him, he just wanted to speed up the whole process and get to the point where he was pardoned and back to being Arthur's incompetent, but by no means regicidal, servant.

'It's early in the search. Don't worry. But it's why I'm here. We need your help.'

'Anything,' Merlin answered instantly; he just wanted to feel useful. 'Do you need a spell or some magic?'

'No, just tell us any places you've been in the last few days where you were alone. We need to narrow down the search.'

Merlin hid his disappointment at the words; that hadn't been exactly what he'd hoped for when Lancelot had asked for help. Still, if it sped up the search…

'Erm…on my own?' He sighed. 'There are loads of places.'

'Just tell us what you can.'

'The stables, all over the castle. I went gathering for Gaius; he'll know all the spots.' He thought hard and listed off a few more places, although by the end they were places that he'd been on his own in for maybe a minute, which he was sure wouldn't be enough time to cast a spell, but he wanted to cover everything.'

'Good, thank you,' Lancelot nodded, mentally storing the information. 'I'm sorry Merlin, but I've got to go; we're running out of daylight.'

Merlin nodded, but had to swallow several times before he could manage to give a reply.

Moments later he was alone again, but a flame of hope had been lit and he no longer felt each seconds passing by him like a precious gift that was lost to him.

The next thing Merlin knew, a guard was carelessly pushing some food through the bars of his cell. He cursed himself for falling asleep, but he did feel a little more refreshed for the rest. He ate the food quickly, aware that he hadn't had anything all day. It was a small meal, but Merlin knew that Arthur had had a hand in getting it to him. He was relatively certain that the majority of prisoners didn't get cuts of meat and fresh fruit on their prison diet. He made a note to thank the Prince the next time he came in.

When would that be? Merlin glanced outside. It was dark and the moon was beginning to shine brightly. Only the flickering candles that adorned the prison walls outside his cell gave him any light. Had their searches throughout the day been successful? He doubted it; surely they would have come and found him by now. He took to pacing the floor for a while, racking his brains to try and remember anywhere else that he had been, or anything else that could help with the search, but the futility of his efforts frustrated him and he soon found himself lying down again and wishing away his hours with sleep.

* * *

Darkness was all around him, with the whispers of shadows and voices breaking through it to become shadowy entities all vying for his attention; calling out to him, trying to draw him in with wild claws. He felt them like knives against his skin, tearing at the flesh there, burrowing into him, digging deeper and deeper. He tried to cry out in agony, but they continued, heedless of his screams. He tried to brush the sounds off, tried to kick them away, but he was helpless. He couldn't move; he couldn't fight. He couldn't do anything but wait. With one final agonising attack, they disappeared into him in a flash of light.

He opened his eyes and looked round. The room was familiar. The armoury of the castle, piled high with weapons, more than Merlin had ever seen before. They were stacked in every corner, reaching to the ceiling. Line after line of spears and swords; maces and hammers. Merlin felt his fingers running along them, but was surprised to realise that he wasn't making his body to move in such a way. He tried to pull back control, but it was useless. There was nothing he could do but watch as his hands reached down and selected a spear, freshly sharpened, glinting in the light from the sun. Outside of the room he heard the familiar sounds of servants laughing and talking, calling instructions to each other.

His body turned as he heard another familiar sound from down the corridor. Arthur's voice, calling him to find out what was taking so long. Merlin wasn't sure what he was meant to be doing to know how to reply -even if he could use his mouth-, but through no will of his own, he heard his voice calling back, asking Arthur to come to the armoury, to look at something.

A terrible dread began to creep over Merlin; he didn't like the tone in his voice, didn't like the careful selection of the words, didn't like the way his hands felt as they grasped the spear more tightly; shifting it into an attack position. The sudden realisation struck Merlin to the core and he renewed his fight for his body with a hundred times more fervour than he had done originally, but it was no use. He felt himself experimentally move the spear back and forwards, heard Arthur coming closer.

He fought and fought, throwing all his will into dropping the spear and turning away, but it was futile. Arthur appeared at the door. Merlin saw him roll his eyes in frustration as he saw his servant wielding a spear and then watched the eyes turn wide and accusing as the spear was thrown at him, hitting him in the heart and breaking deep into the flesh there; no chainmail or armour hindering it.

The blood poured.

* * *

Merlin woke up with a strangled yell, clawing at the air, feeling sweat and tears dripping down his face. His breathing was heavy and ragged and he doubled over coughing. The images of the dream played over and over in his mind, tormenting him. He opened his eyes, frantically searching for some semblance of reality as he saw Arthur standing by the bars of his cell, watching him with sheer confusion and alarm. The expression was so similar to the one in the dream that Merlin opened his mouth to scream his denial, but the Arthur in front of him shifted and frowned, opening his mouth several times before eventually finding his voice.

'Merlin, what is it?' he asked, his voice unusually uneven. Merlin pressed his forehead to the floor and took several deep breaths. He was trembling all over.

'What are you doing here?' he asked, not wanting to go into the details of his dream. Arthur took several seconds to answer.

'I came to see how you were.'

Merlin glanced out of the window; the moon still shining brightly.

'At this time?'

'I couldn't sleep. Evidently, neither can you.'

Merlin said nothing. The images were still going around his mind. He tried to focus on something else and took to watching the flickering shadows on the wall that the candles cast. He let the warm colours erase the blackness of the dream, but he knew they would only shield him from them for a time. He sat up and then shuffled back so he was against the wall near to the bars. Arthur pulled up a chair and turned it towards him, before lowering himself onto it. He looked distinctly uncomfortable sitting there and his eyes shifted constantly to the door of the dungeons. Merlin guessed his slightly dramatic scene had put the Prince out of step a little.

'Thank you for the food,' Merlin said with a smile, remembering the unexpected meal and wanting to distract the Prince from what he had just witnessed.

'You're welcome,' he nodded, but said nothing else. The quietness of the dungeons deepened.

'How's the search going?'

'We haven't found anything. But we'll keep looking tomorrow,' he added quickly. Merlin nodded, but said nothing.

The silence they found themselves in was an unusually uncomfortable one. They spent enough time in each other's company that silence was something they could share together quite happily, although Merlin was sure Arthur would have some comment about him never shutting up. And if for any reason the silence did get too pressing, all it would take was a well timed jibe on Merlin's part or an eloquent insult on Arthur's to get them back on track again. No, silence was not an issue between them. But it was now. Suffocating, complete, dark. It was the silence of strangers and Merlin couldn't understand it and didn't want to.

Arthur didn't stay much longer. They exchanged a few words about the search and tomorrow's plans, but even then the exchange was halting and uneven. To Merlin's dismay, he found that it was a relief when the Prince finally told him to get some sleep and then left.

What had happened? Was the reality setting in for Arthur? Did he realise that he wasn't going to be able to find a way of proving Merlin's innocence? Or did he still not quite believe Merlin's story of memory loss and enchantment? Either way, Merlin felt his heart sink lower and his hopes of being pardoned shrink to the tinniest of flames. One gust of wind would extinguish it forever. But it was the dream that played on his mind as he sat in the dull light. A dream that had been so vivid and so unbelievable and so agonising.

Merlin hoped that it was just a result of the accusations; his imagination using them to create another scenario, but at the back of his mind the single nagging thought remained, driving him mad in its insistence. What if his dream was soon to become his reality?

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	4. Chapter 4

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thanks to all of you who have read and/or reviewed. Here's chapter 4. I'm just writing the ending to chapter 7 at the moment and I can't wait for you lot to read it, but I'll be patient. Hope you enjoy this chapter and please review.

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**Chapter 4**

He managed to stay awake for the rest of the night; a stubborn determination had seized him and he had forced his body to remain alert. Several times he had felt his eyelids begin to drop and so paced the cell until his blood flowed strongly once again. He knew it was stupid; he needed to get some sleep, especially if he wanted to break an enchantment, but the thought of going back to sleep and experiencing another nightmare where he watched Arthur die by his own hand was too frightening. Everything in the dream had seemed so real; the feel of the weapons, the smell of the armoury, every little detail that he saw around him. Even the sounds of servants around the room had been familiar. He had recognised specific voices, maids that he had talked to. Sarah, who was responsible for polishing the spare armour, had been laughing in the background. Theo, who, until recently, had looked after the armoury and training grounds, had been shouting orders to the other servants. Every sound had been perfectly clear. It had been more like a vision than a dream and that scared him.

He tried not to dwell on it, but the hours of being awake provided him with little else to do, but turn his attention to his thoughts and let them unfold. And so he had done it; he had considered the possibility that the dream was more sinister than that; that it was part of the enchantment that had been working through him. Was it meant to be an incentive for him; something rewriting his thoughts and emotions to fill him with the thirst for Arthur's blood? He didn't know. The emotions that he had sensed in himself in the dream didn't seem to have been transferred to his conscious mind. The very thought of hurting Arthur filled him with repulsion and self-loathing.

And so he was forced to ignore the dream for now, or else drive himself mad trying to figure out how it was affecting him. One thought did begin to grow in his mind, however, and that was the possibility that whoever had managed to control him for those few moments in Arthur's chamber, would try to do so again. And what would happen then? They must know that he had some measure of magic if he had opened the poisons' chest without the key, but even if they only thought he had a tiny amount, it could prove detrimental to Arthur. They could take control of him at any time and simply have him unlock his cell and find the Prince. Uther thought that he was keeping his son safe by locking Merlin away, but the truth was that there was nothing keeping him imprisoned except for his own choice to stay. But what would happen if his freedom to choose was hijacked once again?

The inevitable truth was quick in coming to Merlin. Right now, he was a danger to Arthur; the ultimate danger.

Voices in the distance drew his attention from the dark thoughts and he heard the gentle tones of Gaius and Lancelot. From what Merlin could gather from the muffled conversation, they were trying to get rid of the guard. It made his heart race in anticipation; had they found something? Did they need him to use magic? He had to wait an agonising few minutes before the guard seemed to relent and let them down.

'Merlin,' Gaius smiled as he came down the corridor carrying his medicine bag. 'How's your head?'

'What? Oh…' he shook his head; his injury was the least of his worries, '...it's fine. Do you have news?' But he could already tell from their smiling faces that the answer would be an affirmative.

'We may have found the spell,' Lancelot confirmed in a hushed voice. On his back he seemed to be carrying a huge sack of something. Had he not been so distracted by the knight's words, Merlin would have asked what it was.

'Then we can reverse the enchantment?' he asked instead, unable to contain his excitement at the thought.

'Hopefully,' Gaius nodded.

'We found something this morning,' Lancelot continued, somewhat breathlessly. 'Well it was Arthur actually; he found it.'

'What?'

'Out by the training grounds in the surrounding woodland, we found some leftovers from a…' he faltered and looked at Gaius.

'On the ground were burn patterns and marks consistent with a magical ritual.'

'A ritual for what?' Merlin asked hurriedly, trying to hide his frustration at their somewhat lengthy explanation.

'Well, we weren't sure, but the pattern helped to narrow down my research and I believe I've found the spell that was used on you,' he finished with a reserved smile. Merlin stared at him open mouthed.

'Gaius that's…that's perfect. Have you got the spell book?' he added in a whisper. Both men looked back up the corridor and Lancelot took up a position so that he could see down it and still carry on with the conversation. Gaius handed him a small and battered book that looked to be at least half a century old. Merlin read through it quickly. It was a complicated spell, there was no doubt about that - whoever had cast it was a powerful sorcerer - but Merlin was able to follow it through. It was a terrible spell really and a dangerous one as well. The premise was that you summoned spirits of the earth to provide you with energy to create visions that could be impressed on a person's mind. Merlin shuddered as he thought about his dream. It would also explain what he had said to Arthur in his chambers about the Pendragon family being unfit to rule; they had been visions he'd had, caused by the energies of these spirits. Once the spectres had been summoned, the necessary glyphs had to be carved into the earth and set alight to contain the energy that had been given, along with some part of the person that you wished to use the visions on. The spell book suggested hair. Merlin looked up from his reading.

'Where did you say you found it?'

'The training grounds,' Lancelot repeated. 'Some way out. It was about half a mile into the woodland and in the valley of two hills. I'm telling you Merlin, it was sheer luck that we found it. Arthur said he wanted to completely search any areas you'd even been near to. It was so well hidden; if he hadn't insisted on turning over every stone, I doubt we'd have found it.' Merlin felt a shiver of warmth fill him at Arthur's evident desperation to help him.

'But even if it was well hidden,' Merlin continued, 'this spell would have taken a long time. Why risk being so close to Camelot?'

'Read the rest of the spell,' Gaius prompted. 'It says that proximity to the target is necessary for the spirits to be able to recognise and latch their energy on to him or her for the sorcerer to manipulate. They search out the person as soon as the hair sample has been added to the enchantment.' Merlin read on and found the section that Gaius was referring to.

'So this spirit energy is latched onto me now?' Merlin asked, a dark creeping feeling settling on his skin, making it tingle.

'Yes, I believe so,' Gaius nodded gravely.

'I can't sense anything.'

'You wouldn't. They're part of the earth itself; we've all been around them for our entire lives. Nobody notices them.'

'But they could take over again at any time?' Merlin asked. He scoured the spell trying to find the answer, but Gaius answered for him.

'Not take over; they can't control your body. But the visions they create are flawless. They can convince you of a reality that is not your own. Your mind then responds to it accordingly. 'We must break the enchantment quickly,' he prompted, before Merlin could get too caught up in the fact that his thoughts could cease to be his own at any given moment. Merlin nodded, and stood up a little straighter. This would all be over in a few minutes and then they could tell Arthur…

'Wait,' Merlin whispered. 'What are you going to say to Arthur about managing to break the enchantment? He'll know we used magic.'

'No he won't,' Lancelot assured him.

'But…' Merlin said, shaking the book at them. 'It's all here.'

'Arthur doesn't know that Gaius has found the spell.'

'And he can't find out,' Merlin added, 'he'll want to see the book. And if he doesn't see it, there's no way to prove to him that the spell's been broken.'

'Merlin, calm down,' Gaius told him in such a matter-of-fact voice that Merlin felt very much like a child being told off for being overly dramatic. 'We have a plan,' he said in the same tone.

'Which is?' Merlin ventured.

'It's simple,' Lancelot smiled at him. 'You break the enchantment right now; then, you can use your magic to temporarily rewrite this spell so that the cure is none magical.' He nodded confidently at Merlin.

'And then we show Arthur the forged spell?' Merlin finished for him, following the thoughts of his two friends.

'Precisely,' Gaius answered. 'Simple.'

'We don't have a good track record with simple you know, Gauis,' Merlin pointed out, but there was a teasing in his tone and he began to smile. That would work. Arthur wouldn't question them any further.

'We must hurry,' Lancelot prompted. 'The guard will not stay away for much longer.'

Merlin nodded and knelt down on the floor to study the book more closely. It seemed within his abilities to perform the counter-curse, but he realised in dismay that he would need more than just his magic.

'I can't do this now, I need…' but he tailed off as he looked up and saw Gaius and Lancelot smiling knowingly at him and holding out the items on the list. '…soil from where the spell was cast,' he began as Lancelot heaved the sack up and waited by the door. Merlin quickly unlocked it and allowed the knight to cover the floor of his cell in a thin layer of the soil. 'Some oil to burn new glyphs,' he continued, looking expectantly at Gaius. The physician rooted through his medicine bag and then retrieved a small jar which he held out to Merlin. He took it quickly and then locked the door of his cell again as Lancelot left. 'And then some of the victims blood, mine I guess.' Lancelot handed him the small knife that he kept on his belt.

Merlin looked at the smuggled items and then at the smugglers themselves. 'Thank you,' he nodded to them.

'We wanted to make it as easy as possible,' Lancelot explained. 'Over to you.' Merlin nodded and refocused his mind on the task at hand. He quickly copied the glyph patterns from the books onto the soil using the contents of the jar. The oil left dark lines on the dirt that eventually created a circle of glyphs. Between each glyph, Merlin then placed a line of oil to fill in the gaps.

The circle complete, he set to dripping a few drops of his blood in the centre of it. It took a matter of minutes, but soon Merlin stood up beside his handiwork ready to perform the spell. The basic idea of this ritual was to summon the spirits back to the earth. Once Merlin started the spell and the magic called to them, they would use the blood in the middle as a means of guiding themselves back into the soil. Merlin wasn't sure what they'd make of the tiny amount of soil in which they would have to dwell, but he figured that Gaius and Lancelot could return it back to the woodland within the next few hours.

'I'm ready,' Merlin nodded at his two friends who were watching closely.

'How will we know it works?' Lancelot asked. Merlin looked hopefully over at Gaius and the old man took his hint. He explained the consequences to Lancelot.

'When Merlin utters the spell,' he began, 'we should see his body shaking as the spirits leave. It will be obvious that something is happening and we will be able to see the spirits for a matter of seconds as they cross the barrier between our realm and their realm in the earth.'

'Will it hurt you?' Lancelot asked him, a frown of concern on his face.

'We'll see,' Merlin replied lightly; the truth was he didn't know. The spirits had obviously entered into his body without him noticing; he hoped that meant that the next few minutes would be pain free. 'Here I go.'

Lancelot and Gaius took a few steps back, which was understandable, but unnecessary. Merlin took a deep breath, looked over the words of the spell once more and then lifted his hand. He reached for the magic deep inside him, felt it answering his call instantly and then slowly and clearly spoke the words of the spell.

He felt the magic leave him, sensed the way it hummed through the air momentarily and watched as the glyphs burst into flames all around the circle. They twisted before him in a spectral dance, as if the spirits themselves were controlling them, but he felt no change in himself. He waited for the sensation that he had been expecting; the feel of energy being pulled out of his body, wrenching his soul in different directions before finally breaking free and leaving him to his own thoughts and his own decisions.

But nothing happened. The heat in the cell became unbearable for several seconds, before finally beginning to abate as the oil ran out. He looked down in alarm as the burning glyphs become nothing more than black patterns of charred soil on the cell floor.

'But…' he began desperately. He looked down at the spell book again, checking that he hadn't missed anything. He tried the spell again, just in case he had been supposed to wait until the glyphs had burned out. His magic flowed through him as he uttered the words more loudly and more powerfully, but the result was the same. Nothing.

'No,' he hissed in an angry whisper. He didn't want to look at Gaius and Lancelot, didn't want to see their faces because he knew that once he did he would have to accept the same conclusion that they had no doubt come to. He studied the book again, compared his glyphs with the ones shown in the book, re-read the entire page twice, three times. He had done everything right; he had done all the book asked. And it wasn't enough.

'It didn't work,' he said quietly, slowly. Defeat crept through his voice and down through the rest of his body. As he looked at the other two men, his shoulders slumped, his lips curved downwards and he backed up to the wall, leaning heavily against it.

'Merlin,' Gaius tried.

'It didn't work.

'Perhaps if we try again,' Lancelot pressed, but his voice betrayed his doubts. Merlin shook his head. 'Well, maybe you have to be in the actual place where the first spell was performed.'

'That's not what the book said,' Merlin replied numbly.

'Then-' the knight tried again, casting around for answers, but Merlin cut him off.

'It didn't work.' His tone was firmer this time. Neither Gaius nor Lancelot argued further. 'I think the sorcerer who cast it has to do it,' he continued after a few moments. It was his or her magic that the spirits responded to the first time; I think it has to be the same magic to call them out.'

'Then we'll find the sorcerer,' Lancelot told him determinedly.

'You won't.'

'Arthur already has patrols out looking. It was the first thing he did when he found the ritual remains. He's trying everything he can, Merlin. He's even managed to keep Uther in the dark for now. If anyone can find the sorcerer, it's Arthur.'

Merlin shook his head and then slid down the wall.

'Merlin,' Lancelot tried again.

'He won't find anything, Lancelot,' Merlin told him, looking at him. 'This sorcerer is powerful and clever. If he wants to stay hidden then he will do.'

'Then we just keep you locked up until we do find him.'

'That won't work,' Merlin argued. 'You know as well as I do that I could walk out of this cell whenever I wanted. To prove the point he unlocked and locked the cell door several times, before finally closing it again. There was silence for several moments and Merlin's eyes found their way to the dirt that covered the floor, the dark glyphs still staring at him. He turned away from them and summoned the sack that Lancelot had carried in. Holding it open with magic, Merlin sent a steady stream of the soil into the sack until every last speck was bundle in the bag.

No-one said anything for several minutes, but Merlin's mind raced over the possibilities. He had thought the spell would free him, but it hadn't; he was just as much a slave as he had been before. He glanced out of the window. The sun was passed midday. How many hours were left until his execution? He sat there for a long time, no-one trying to break the silence. As he thought and reflected, he found his thoughts carving a pathway into the future for him. He wrestled with it, tried to find a way around it, realised the necessity of it and then accepted it.

His decision made, he looked hesitantly and sadly up at the two men who were watching him closely. Lancelot looked on with a sad frustration, his strategic mind evidently going over ways that they could catch the sorcerer, working out the best possibility for luring him or her into a trap, going over possible places for hideouts in his mind. Gaius on the other hand, was watching him with a deep sadness and understanding. He had known Merlin for too long not to be aware of where his thoughts had taken him; he had watched him struggle through moral issues; he had watched him fight for and despair of his destiny. He had seen how Merlin had protected Arthur in every situation no matter what the cost.

'Merlin,' he said sadly, his voice quiet, but full of terrible insight.

'I can't risk it,' Merlin told them, turning his face towards the floor. 'I can't risk loosing my mind and killing Arthur.'

'Merlin?' Lancelot asked; wariness and suspicion in his voice. Merlin looked at them again and then took a breath.

'I'm going to let them execute me tomorrow.'

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	5. Chapter 5

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thank you for so many lovely responses. They inspired me to do a lot of writing over the weekend and I'm quite far ahead with the story now (chapter 9), so I though I'd post this chapter a little sooner than I'd intended to for all you lovely people! Please let me know what you think of this one as well!

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**Chapter 5**

They had argued with him for a long time. Well, Lancelot had argued; Gaius had stood by and watched, seemingly getting older and more tired with every word of refusal that left Merlin's lips. He knew better than to try and change Merlin's mind; knew that it would be futile. Lancelot didn't seem to realise this, or if he did he refused to accept it.

The knight had told him that he could just leave Camelot until the sorcerer was found; go far away so that he was no threat to Arthur, but Merlin had refused. There was every chance that he could come back at any time. The sorcerer would no doubt be watching him for an escape, especially if he did know about Merlin's magical abilities. All it would take was one command to the earth spirits that were currently a part of him and he would be heading back to Camelot with murder in his mind.

Admitting defeat on that point, Lancelot had switched to a more Merlin centred solution, suggesting that Gaius could just keep him knocked out with sleeping draughts at all times until the sorcerer was found. Merlin had countered that argument just as easily. The sorcerer would be watching him and could reverse the effects of a sleeping potion whenever he wished. On top of that, Merlin's body seemed to have an ability to fight the effects of said potions much more quickly than an ordinary person. His magic seemed to react to anything that made him vulnerable; it worked instinctively for him whether he was conscious of it or not.

More arguments rose on Lancelot's lips, but Merlin answered and refuted each one. He had made up his mind, he had considered the possibilities and he knew that this course of action was the only one open to him if he wanted to stand firm in his destiny and ensure that Arthur made it to the throne. Throughout his exchange with the, by now, angry knight, Merlin had remained calm, but Lancelot had soon changed tactics.

'Do you know what this will do to Arthur?' he asked; his eyes unusually hard. For a skilled warrior and killer, Lancelot rarely showed any aggression outside of the battlefield. He was gentle and caring by nature and his anger only showed the extent of his desperation.

'It doesn't matter,' Merlin replied, a bite coming into his tone, because that was the one factor that he was trying to ignore.

'It does matter. If you make him watch you die because of him, he will never let the guilt go.'

'I'm a danger to him; he doesn't need to feel guilty. Besides, it's Uther, not Arthur, who's ordering my execution.'

'Do you think Arthur will make that distinction?' Lancelot asked in frustration. 'If you do this, he will carry it with him for the rest of his life. You know how much he cares about you. I don't care if he doesn't show it. You know he does; we all do.'

'I know,' Merlin answered back, his voice sharper.

'Then how can you do it to him?'

'How is sparing his feelings going to help him if he's dead?' Merlin asked.

'Merlin; you can fight this. Now you know what's happened, you can fight it.'

'I don't know that for sure and it isn't worth the risk.'

'Merlin-' he was angry now. It was unlike him to continue into confrontations. He and Merlin rarely, if ever, fell out, and Lancelot was always one to know when to stop. He had insight into the feelings of other people; he knew when they were being pushed too far and right now he knew that he was pushing Merlin beyond what he could cope with. Merlin realised that he had to put an end to it.

'Don't tell me that it might not happen!' Merlin told him, authority coming into his voice. 'I won't risk it. I can not live my life knowing that one day I could kill Arthur without even having a clue what I'm doing. Don't you understand?' he asked, when Lancelot made to argue again. 'I am more powerful than the whole of Camelot's army put together. If somebody puts visions into my mind, changes my perception of the truth and uses my abilities, nothing you do will be able to protect Arthur or Camelot. And I can not risk waking up one day to find that I have destroyed the home and the people that I love. I won't do it. Nothing you say will change my mind. I will lay down my life to make sure it never happens.'

Lancelot looked at him then, his resolve crumbling. Merlin could see it in his eyes, could see the fight going on in his mind. He shook his head and bent to pick up the sack that he had brought in.

'I'm not giving up yet.'

'This isn't me giving up. This is me winning,' Merlin told him. He shook his head again, opened his mouth a couple of times and then seemed to think better of it. He looked at Gaius.

'The guard will be back any moment. I'll give you two a few minutes.' With that he walked up to the bars, reached out and placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. He still wasn't happy with the plan -that much was completely obvious- but the meaning behind the gesture was clear: I am your friend. Merlin nodded his thanks and then the knight walked down the corridor.

Merlin watched him go, unwilling to look into Gaius' face, but in the end he had no choice. His friend's eyes were heavy with emotion: sadness, anger, acceptance, pride. They were all emotions that Merlin had seen in him hundreds of times before, but never with such potency and such a sense of inevitable grief.

'You understand don't you Gaius?' he asked quietly.

'Yes, Merlin, I do. That doesn't make it any easier to cope with.'

'You know, better than anyone, how hard I've tried to keep Arthur safe. How much I've done to try and guide him to being the best King he can be.'

'I know.'

'I can't destroy it all because somebody puts a version of reality in my head where Arthur's the enemy.'

'I know,' Gaius repeated again, the same expression in his voice; the understanding that Merlin so desperately needed, but also the pain that he hated to be causing.

'I need you to do something for me,' Merlin continued after a few moments' silence. Gaius nodded his head and waited. 'I need you to show the spell to Arthur; the real one. That way he'll understand the danger.'

'I doubt that will be enough to convince him. He doesn't see you as a physical threat; he'll find a way of convincing Uther to keep you imprisoned until the sorcerer can be found.'

'Then you need to tell him that you think the sorcerer is close by and capable of getting me out of this cell. Which he probably is,' Merlin pointed out. 'Even if I couldn't do it myself, that would still be a valid argument.' Gaius stared at him for several long moments. 'Please.'

'Very well,' he nodded heavily, a sigh in his voice.

'And, if you can, try and stop Arthur from coming to see me. I don't know what I'd do if…'

'I can't guarantee that I'll be able to, but I'll try.'

'Thank you.'

More silence, more barely concealed desperation on both of their faces.

'I'm sorry,' Merlin eventually said, feeling his throat catch on the words. He opened his mouth to carry on, to try and explain again, but this time the words got stuck in his throat and his vision blurred. He backed up in his cell and leant against the wall, feeling tears begin to fall down his face. He couldn't look at Gaius, couldn't watch the man who was his father in all but blood have to say goodbye to him again.

'Open the door, Merlin,' he said gently. Merlin didn't even have to utter the spell; all it took was a few clear thoughts and a flick of his hand. Gaius slowly made his way in, but still Merlin didn't look up; it was too painful. How many times had he done this to his mentor now? He had lost count.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered. But moments later, Gaius was pulling him into a strong embrace.

'So am I,' he said, 'but this is not your fault.' He pulled back and held Merlin at arm's length. 'You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm so proud of you, my boy.'

That had been a few hours ago now. Since then, Merlin had been trying not to think about too much. All his focus was on trying to notice whether he was being influenced by magic. His plan would be for nothing if the sorcerer impressed a false picture in his head now and made him kill Arthur. But nothing happened. There was nothing but him and the silence.

And Arthur. The thought of the Prince had been enough to make Merlin reconsider his plan on more than one occasion. A nervous expectation was beginning to fill him. Surely Arthur knew what he intended to do now, which meant that at any moment the Prince might storm in hear and begin calling him every name under the sun before getting him to change his mind. Gaius was right; there was no way he would be able to stop Arthur from coming down here if the Prince made up his mind to do so. Merlin had been preparing himself for it, working out what he would say to ensure that the Prince went away quickly. Chances were that at the moment, the sorcerer was far away; avoiding the hundreds of patrols that were after him, but Merlin didn't want to take any chances. And so, when the prison corridor resounded with the sound of footsteps, he sat up straighter and took several deep breaths, going over his rehearsed lines, but his visitor was not the one he expected.

'Gwen!' he called in surprise, but the joy in his voice and face soon died away as she looked at him and then promptly began to cry. She didn't try and speak, just looked at him and shook her head. He moved over to the bars and put a hand out to hold hers. She took it and then knelt to the ground, pulling him with her until they were at eye level.

'Who told you?' he asked gently.

'I went and asked Gaius?' she said, her voice croaking against the tears. 'I don't want you to do this, Merlin,' she said desperately. All arguments that he'd been rehearsing and going over evaporated; he hadn't thought about the emotions that would go with the conversation, not Gwen's anyway. He had planned for Arthur's response: primarily that would mean anger and a lot of shouting, along with a just about hidden desperation and denial. He had not been prepared for Gwen's heartfelt and heartbroken response to the plan.

'I need to protect-'

'I know,' she nodded. 'I know that; Gaius told me everything you said. I didn't come hear to try and change your mind.' She looked at him, and then reached up her free hand to join her first in enclosing his. 'You're so brave Merlin. And you're so good to Arthur.'

'Not as brave as you are,' he smiled. 'And I'm definitely not as good to Arthur as you are.' She managed a shaky smile at that. 'Does he know?' Merlin asked after a slight pause. She nodded her head slowly. 'I went to see him to ask if they'd found anything and Lancelot was in there asking him to try again to put back the date of your…' she tried to finish the sentence, but just shook her head, silent tears falling.

'It's alright,' he assured her, squeezing her hand. 'I'm fine.' She nodded. 'When you say try again, do you mean that Uther has already refused?' She nodded silently. 'And what did Arthur say?'

'Nothing really. Lancelot told him that you wanted the…that tomorrow you weren't going to try and appeal to the King, and then he went to rejoin the searches for the sorcerer. Arthur was…' she frowned. 'I don't know. He just seemed shocked, unsure. He didn't know what to do. He went and saw Gaius and I went with him. That's when he told us both what you said. He showed Arthur the spell and told him not to go and see you.'

'I suppose he didn't agree.'

'He didn't say anything; it's like he's…aimless…confused. I don't think he expected this at all.'

'Where is he now?' Merlin asked. Regardless of whether the plan had shocked Arthur, he still would have expected the Prince to march straight down here and begin yelling at him.

'I don't know; he said he had to go and think. He still didn't seem to really know what to do or say. I stayed to talk to Gaius for a bit, but then I thought I should go and find Arthur to see if he was alright.'

'And was he?'

'I don't know. I couldn't find him. Some of the servants said they'd seen him heading towards the armoury, but no-one's seen him since. I don't know why he'd go there.'

'He likes to hit things with swords when he's angry,' Merlin shrugged.

'I thought that, so I went to the training grounds, but no-one's seen him.'

Merlin frowned; if Arthur wanted to be on his own, he usually hid himself away in his chambers or went hunting. He voiced the suggestion to Gwen.

'I can check the stables in a bit; I'll be able to see if his horse has gone.'

'I wouldn't worry, Gwen. He'll appear when he's ready. And besides, the longer he stays away, the last likely it is that he'll come to see me.'

'You know he will.'

'It's too dangerous.'

'Even if the sorcerer does let you out, you're not going to be a match for Arthur,' Gwen pointed out. Merlin said nothing. 'You need to talk to him.'

'I don't really know what to say.'

'He will understand,' she assured him, 'even if he says he doesn't. He'll understand.'

'How do you know?' She looked at him and smiled.

'Because if the positions were reversed, he'd do exactly the same for you.'

A tearful goodbye ensued. All Merlin wanted to do was open his cell door again and hug her properly. Gwen had been with him since his very first day in Camelot; she had often been one of his co-conspirators during his many implementations of foolhardy plans. She had always been there with a gentle word -or a less gentle one when the situation called for it. A difficult hug through thick metal bars didn't seem to do justice to his feelings; it didn't show her the depth of his gratitude for who she had been to him in the last few years.

She left quickly and Merlin counted up the goodbyes he had said. Three so far. And there were several that he would never get to say: the knights, especially Gwaine, not unless they all marched down here themselves, but he had a feeling they would throw themselves into the search; determined to find the sorcerer so that goodbyes would be rendered unnecessary. Merlin didn't blame them for it. He knew the truth of their friendship. But the hardest goodbye was still to come, and he guessed it would be soon. He would not be able to stop Arthur from coming down here. He only hoped that the sorcerer was unaware of the Prince's movements.

How would he say goodbye? From what Merlin knew about Arthur, the Prince could refuse to give any sort of goodbye, just to make the point that he wasn't giving up and he was cross with Merlin for doing just that. It certainly wouldn't be straightforward and to the point. Nothing ever was when it came to him and Arthur.

Time wore on, the afternoon light soon dulling to a dusky amber. And still Arthur didn't appear. Merlin began to hope that he wouldn't turn up at all; that would give more assurance of his safety. Perhaps the thought of saying goodbye was too much for Arthur. He had never been any good at sharing his true feelings. Even Merlin -who was easily Arthur's closest confidant and had been witness to the majority of the Prince's major emotional traumas- could count on his fingers the number of times Arthur had given him an insight into his deepest thoughts, although in more recent years Merlin had begun to see an easier openness in his friend. It had given him hope that soon their relationship would move into the true friendship that Kilgharrah had hinted at so often. Merlin had been looking forward to it, had been waiting to see it develop and to see the two of them shape a future for Albion.

And now he never would. That was the grief that was tearing at him; all the things that he had been working for that he would not be able to see the results of. He would never watch Arthur become king; he would never see Guinevere become queen. He would never see magic being brought back to the Kingdom; Arthur would never even know that his friend had been the most powerful warlock of the age.

Funny; Merlin had always assumed that one day Arthur would find out. He had made assumptions on the way future events would pan out based on the results of that revelation. And all that worry had been for nothing. Arthur had never been going to find out. That too made Merlin sad. He knew it was stupid; chances were that Arthur would hate him for a long time if he ever found out about the magic, but it was such a big part of who Merlin was that he had hoped one day for Arthur to share in it. Until he did, he would never truly know who Merlin was or what made him the person he was. Now he never would.

The unfairness of the situation hit him full force in a way it hadn't done since he had found out what had been done to him; the enchantment that had been placed on him. Why was it that this sorcerer, whoever he or she was, had decided to use Merlin as their assassin? Why had they not had the nerve to complete their attack on their own or with someone else? Anybody else would have been fine; they could have been kept locked up and under guard and that would have been the only thing needed. Even if the sorcerer unlocked their cell, they would still have to get past the whole of Camelot's forces in order to harm Arthur. Meanwhile, Merlin would have been tracking down the sorcerer and finding a way to get him or her to break the enchantment, even if it meant killing them.

But this; this was the one scenario in which Merlin couldn't help. He could protect Arthur from a lot of things and he had done just that in the past: dragons, witches, enchantments, poisons, to name but a few. But he couldn't protect Arthur from this. And if that was the case, then his purpose within the Prince's life had been lost.

It was with those sad musings still going round his mind that he heard the sound of the prison door opening at the far end of the corridor. He moved to the bars of his cell and peered as far as he could in the direction of the sound. It was Arthur.

Merlin took a deep breath; he had to make this conversation count.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Please let me know what you think of this chapter as well. I'm away over the weekend, so won't have time to write very much. As such, it might take a few extra days to get the next chapter up, but hopefully this one will tide you over until then.

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**Chapter 6**

He looked angry. That was the first thing Merlin noticed as the Prince appeared outside of his cell. The man's piercing blue eyes stared at him accusingly, but before Merlin could drop his eyes from the ferocious expression, Arthur had turned away. Inwardly, Merlin gave a groan; the Prince was pacing. Merlin hated it when he did that; it would usually be followed up with lots of shouting. Well, he had been expecting that.

He decided his best course of action was to stay quiet, but when, after several minutes, Arthur had still said nothing and stopped in his pacing to lean against the wall and look anywhere but at Merlin, he decided he might actually have to start the conversation. He was aware of the fact that at any moment the sorcerer could put an image in his head and cause him to do something he would regret. He doubted, at this point, that the sorcerer was nearby –after all, the whole of Camelot was looking for him-, but Merlin didn't want to push his chances too far.

'Arthur. Gaius told you about the spell, so…' he trailed off as Arthur's full attention was suddenly fixed on him: fierce and unrelenting. '…so maybe it would be best if you didn't stay too long.'

'Trust me, Merlin: if you somehow get broken out of your cell, I'll be able to cope with your pathetic attempts at combat.' His voice was hard and Merlin suddenly feared that that tone would be the last one he heard Arthur use to speak to him.

'Arthur,' he began again, more gently this time.'

'You know,' Arthur interrupted and Merlin had a feeling that the Prince didn't even know he'd said his name again, 'you've come up with some fairly stupid ideas in your time and, on occasion, a good one. Do you know which category your current plan falls into?'

'Yes, I do actually,' he replied back, meeting Arthur's sarcasm with a general cheeriness that he knew would irritate him. He didn't like this seriousness; he and Arthur rarely dealt in it. 'The question is: do you?'

Arthur gave a sigh of frustration and then resumed pacing.

'I won't let this happen,' he said as he walked. 'I will get my father to see reason. And if he won't, then I'll break you out myself.'

'No,' Merlin replied in alarm. As touched as he was by the gesture, the thought of being alone with Arthur when nobody else in the castle knew where he was, terrified Merlin. How many different ways could he kill the Prince and hide the body? Too many to count.

'Merlin, what you're suggesting is insane. And I won't let you do it, not for me.' His voice had grown quieter and more full of emotion. Merlin frowned, that was not the Arthur he knew. He only threw in emotion when he really couldn't help it. Was the situation really affecting him so deeply? Merlin tried to reverse their positions and imagine himself as the Prince, having this conversation. Yes, maybe this did warrant some extra emotion from Arthur.

As if sensing Merlin's surprise, Arthur steeled his expression.

'Anyway, my father is already considering your innocence.'

'It will be easy to change that,' Merlin replied quietly. Arthur fixed him with another glare, but Merlin stood firm. 'It would only take one threat from me against your life and he'd reassess his position.'

'You wouldn't do that.'

'As I'm sure you'll agree,' Merlin said, 'I've done stupider things than that before.'

'What you're suggesting is suicide,' Arthur replied, his voice getting louder.

'Not exactly.'

'No? Tell me, how is letting yourself get executed for something you didn't really do, and threatening to make yourself look guilty anything but suicide?'

'I'm doing this to protect you!' Merlin said incredulously.

'Protect me from what Merlin? You can barely hold a sword, you aren't capable of anything that is remotely stealthy and you can't walk in a straight line without tripping over something.'

'You saw it yourself,' Merlin retorted. 'I nearly managed to poison you.'

'But you didn't.'

'That isn't the point. I know this castle inside out. I know more passages than you. I can get in and out of Camelot without being seen. If I'm really convinced that you're the enemy, or if the sorcerer stops me recognising you and instead convinces me that you're a threat, I can easily get around undetected to kill you. When your father had that warrant out for me, I hid in Camelot for days. I got into your room, no questions asked.'

'Fine, then I'll step up security and make sure you stay locked up until we find the sorcerer responsible.'

'There's no guarantee that will work, and I don't want to be in the position where I'm testing it. What if the sorcerer decides to break me out himself? The guards wouldn't stand a chance.'

Arthur turned away in frustration, his whole body tense; he seemed to be beginning to understand his helplessness; it was coiling him, making him ready to lash out at any moment. Merlin didn't want that to be their last conversation: Arthur yelling at him, him arguing back and then finally the two of them parting ways in anger. He couldn't go to his own execution with such an unresolved conflict. Maybe that was Arthur's plan: stay angry with Merlin so that he would be more open to having his execution pushed back. Merlin couldn't deny that it would make him think about it.

'Arthur,' he said slowly, calmly, gently. The Prince looked over at him; he was still shimmering with frustration and anger, but he listened, which was all Merlin really needed. 'If this was the other way round; if you were me and I was you, what would you do?' Arthur shook his head, but didn't argue; this encouraged Merlin on. 'When it comes down to it, your life and your position, the future you have before you…they are all more important than me.'

'Merlin-'

'It's true, and you know it is,' he interrupted firmly. Arthur fell silent. 'You can't jeopardise the future of the Kingdom for one life, especially the life of a servant. You're the future King, Arthur, you have to be around to lead the land; you can't risk me hurting you and destroying that hope.' Arthur had turned away, refusing to acknowledge the words, but Merlin continued on. 'But that isn't the main reason I want to do this. Perhaps it's selfish of me,' he shrugged. Arthur looked questioningly at him. He smiled, pleased to have the Prince's full attention once again. 'You're my friend, Arthur. It doesn't matter how unlikely it is to happen; I can't risk being the person who kills you. I can't do that. I'll do anything to make sure it doesn't happen. And I can't live with myself knowing that it's a possibility.'

'What about me having to live with watching your execution?' he asked after a short pause.

Silence from Merlin. What could he say in response to that? He could say that Arthur didn't have to be there, but he would take that as more of an insult; the Prince was not one to leave his friends alone in hopeless situations, no matter how much it hurt him to watch.

'I'm sorry,' Merlin simply said instead. The prince shook his head, but not in a way that made Merlin feel like he'd accepted the situation. He started pacing again.

'I won't have this. I won't. I'm the Prince of Camelot and if I want a prisoner kept alive then I can have a prisoner kept alive.'

'Arthur,' Merlin said desperately, realising that he was loosing him, but it was too late. Yes, his words had begun to break through to Arthur, but Merlin could almost see the barrier sliding into place to hold them back. 'Please. This is the best way.'

'I'll decide what's the best way. And as my servant, you'll go along with it.'

'Arthur,' he repeated, more angrily this time.

'I'll be back here in the morning to have you released,' he carried on, heedless of Merlin's words.

'Please, listen.'

'I have been listening, Merlin, but I don't agree.' And with that he turned tail and walked out of the dungeons, not once looking back, despite Merlin's loud shouts of pleading. The prison door boomed shut and Merlin was left, breathing heavily, his heart hammering and his fists clenched in frustration. He gave a yell of anger and felt his magic flare through him for a few seconds, responding to his heightened emotions.

Everything had been going so well. Arthur had been listening to him and then suddenly… He wasn't thinking rationally. Always before, Arthur had managed to keep his heart and his head in balance, but at the moment, he wasn't acting rationally. Merlin closed his eyes as he realised what he had to do. He had been hoping it wouldn't come to it, but there wasn't a choice now. Arthur was right, if he really did want Merlin kept alive, he could probably find a way of convincing Uther; especially if the King was genuinely beginning to believe Merlin's innocence. What was more, this Uther was not the same Uther that Merlin had dealt with in the past; he was weaker now, more vulnerable, more likely to be swayed. And Arthur could do that.

No, there was only one choice. He sat down on the floor of his cell, back and head against the wall and waited for the guard to return. A while later, the man took up his position; not looking at Merlin, just doing his job. Merlin thought his words out carefully, thought about how he would act as he said them.

Slowly, as menacingly as he could manage, Merlin got up and began pacing his cell, his eyes ever on the guard. He wanted to put the man on edge; it would make it so much more impacting when he finally spoke. And so he walked backwards and forwards for several minutes and then headed over to the bars, staring, until eventually he saw the guard give him a sideways glance. He smiled in what he hoped was a threatening way, although he rarely threatened anybody and so was just guessing.

'Look at you; guard for the illustrious Pendragon family. What an honour.' The sarcasm in his voice was cutting and foreign, he hated the sound of it, but he pressed on. 'Shall I let you in on a secret?' he asked. The guard still wasn't looking at him, but Merlin could see that he had his full attention. 'I'm going to kill them both. Uther. Arthur. By this time tomorrow, they'll be dead and forgotten.' At this the guard reacted. He slammed his sword against the bars. Merlin stepped back half a step, but then gave another smile as the guard rounded on him.

'By this time tomorrow, _you'll_ be dead and forgotten.'

'Don't assume that I'm working alone,' he replied calmly. 'I have powerful friends who will be paying me a visit very soon. When they do, you'll be watching me walk out of here to go and kill your King.' He spat the word.

He stopped there, but found it difficult to keep the same casual and evil look on his face. He was a bad liar at the best of times, but even more so when he could hear a voice screaming in his head, asking him what he was doing. He had to agree. What had he just done?

But he knew that his plan had worked, and its success was confirmed when the guard left his post and headed out of the dungeons, only to be replaced by another a few seconds later. Merlin sat down in grim relief. Maybe Arthur could have swayed his father before, but it would be impossible now. Uther would not take a threat on his life well, and he definitely wouldn't listen to Arthur assuring him that Merlin had been making it up.

No, he'd sealed his own fate and there was nothing anyone could do now to stop it.

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His dreams that night were full of horror and anger and pain, all of it caused by him. He tried to stay awake to fend them off, but his body seemed to be fighting against him on that front. Countless times he found himself screaming into awareness. His body was pouring with sweat his hands and arms were bruised where he flung them against the floor and walls to try and escape the terrible visions, but they were inescapable in his dream world.

Time and again, he watched himself kill Arthur, never for a clear reason, never with any mercy. He felt himself slip more poison into Arthur's goblet and stand over him watching him die. He saw himself purposely leaving Arthur to the mercy of bandits in the woods. He watched as he led the Prince into trap after trap, ambush after ambush, as he stabbed him in his sleep while they were out hunting. He felt himself smash a rock into the head of the unsuspecting Prince, saw himself push the man from the towers of the castle. Time after time he felt and saw Arthur's blood covering his own hands; heard Arthur's last gasping breaths; saw the accusation and the hurt and the betrayal in his friend's eyes and was powerless to do anything to stop it.

He spent the dreams screaming at himself from where he was buried in his body's consciousness, trying to wrest control back and failing every time. There was nothing he could do except watch Arthur die horrendously and agonisingly over and over again. Several times when he woke up he found himself shaking violently. He heard sounds at the window which made him jump; he saw shadows in the corners stretching towards him and yelled to keep them away. He could feel the blood on his hands. Several times when he looked around, the cell seemed to have an unearthly red glow that reminded him only of death and guilt.

By the time the sun rose on the morning of his execution, he had already been awake for hours, battling the demons that still tried to claw into his consciousness. He felt weak, shaky. When he tried to stand up, he found that it took several attempts, but eventually his legs gained some of their strength back and that was when he became aware of his fear. He could feel an aching in the pit of his stomach which wouldn't go away; he felt clammy and cold, which didn't change, even as the sun began to bake the earth. And always there was a shout or a cry trying to force its way up and out of his throat.

Today, he was going to die.

It seemed surreal; like it wasn't really going to happen. He felt as if, at any moment, Arthur would come in, ask him what he was doing in the dungeons and then haul him out to start another day of chores. Was this really happening to him? After all his years of working so hard to protect and guide Arthur, was this really how it was going to end? It seemed so unfair, so pointless. A surge of anger flowed through him and he reached for his magic, ready to open the doors and walk out of Camelot for good, but memories of his dreams stayed his hand. He could not risk it. How many times had he said that to himself, to everyone, in the last few days? He could not risk it.

The dreams, while not true –not yet- had given him a glimpse into the possible reality he would have to live with if he killed Arthur. He had felt the terrible regret and remorse in every dream. They had given him a gift of terrible understanding of what his life would be like if he allowed his fear to change his mind in going through with this plan.

He liked calling it a plan; he felt like he had a small amount of control over the situation; that because it was his choosing to go through with it, he wasn't being used as a pawn in some killer's mind. It was small comfort, but it was enough to give him the tiny glimmer of peace that he needed to not break down and cry for a life that would now go unlived.

He was doing the right thing, of that he had no doubts. But it didn't make it any easier. He made a decision, however, for the Knights, for Gwen, for Gaius and for Arthur, that when he walked out there, he would not show his fear and his grief. He would be strong; the last gift he could give to them to make it the tinniest bit easier on the people who had been there for him since he arrived in Camelot. He would walk out there and search them out, smile at them, reassure them as best he could and try and thank them through a simple look. It was all he could do, but this time, he believed it would be enough.

When the soldiers came to fetch him, he put up no resistance.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thank you muchly for the reviews! I've been so excited about posting this chapter. I tried to force myself to wait a few more days, just so that I gave myself chance to write a little more of the story, but as you can see, it didn't happen. I have no will power. It works out better for those of you who wanted a quick update however! The end of this chapter is the first part I wrote of the whole story! So, please, please let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 7**

It became evident to Merlin straightaway why he had had no last visitors to his cell that morning. There were guards posted everywhere around the corridors leading to the dungeons. They were at every corner, beside ever door; all of them standing alert and ready. Evidently, Uther had more than believed Merlin's threat was true and had decided to ensure that no-one was getting in or out of the dungeons until he was dead. In a way, Merlin was glad. He didn't know how he would have coped with seeing people, especially in the state he had been. When it came down to it, he had said his goodbye's to Gwen and Gauis, and even Lancelot to a certain extent. He wouldn't want to draw out their pain anymore by forcing them through another emotional parting.

But it was the others that he thought of as he was lead out of the dungeons, the hands of the guards firmly on his arms with an almost bruising grip –they were taking no chances. The Knights. Although he wasn't particularly close to Elyan, Percival or Leon, he still would have liked to have said goodbye to them, to tell them that he thought they were doing an excellent job of protecting Arthur and Camelot and of showing the nobility of Camelot's knights, despite the fact that two of them weren't of noble birth. Gwaine, of course, was another who he had not had chance to say goodbye to. He was sure that the man would have come to see him today had his way not been blocked. Merlin had no doubt that he had searched with unrivalled intensity to find a way of proving and restoring Merlin's innocence. Perhaps by the time he realised that Merlin's plan was inevitable, it had been too late to come and say goodbye. Merlin would make sure that he sought him out in the crowd.

And then there was Arthur. That was the regret that was weighing most heavily on his mind as he continued forwards. They had reached the upper corridors and the bright morning sun streamed through the windows, almost blinding compared to the dull light he had grown accustomed to. It made his eyes water and he blinked furiously to clear them, worried that they would be mistaken for tears.

Arthur. They hadn't parted on bad terms yesterday, but it wasn't the goodbye that Merlin so desperately wanted. Not least because he knew how much he would have hurt Arthur with the stunt he had pulled last night in getting the guard to report him to Uther. He wanted to apologise for that, wanted to make Arthur understand that he had done it for the right reasons and that he wasn't just being his usual disobedient self. On top of that, was their last conversation; it wasn't representative of their relationship; it didn't allow them to remind themselves of the ease in which they spent time in each other's company; it hadn't given a throwback to their many times of laughter and shared amusement; it wasn't a salute to their constant bickering and banter that ultimately spoke only of affection, even if it was disguised behind ridiculous comments and insults. No, their conversation last night had been unusual and unfamiliar and lacking all of their usual camaraderie. He wished he could go back and do it over. He wanted to say thank you to the Prince for making him see that his perseverance had all been worth it; he wanted to tell Arthur how proud he was of him, even if the Prince would only take it the wrong way.

And he wanted to hear Arthur's side of that conversation; wanted to listen to one of Arthur's nonchalant backhanded comments which actually spoke of a deep appreciation and gratitude. That was what he had always envisioned their last conversation being like, and yet it had been nothing of the sort. He realised, sadly, that it was a regret that he would carry with him for the rest of his life, even if that life was only to continue for a few more minutes.

The walk up to the courtyard was quick, much quicker than he had expected. He'd always thought that a final walk would go slowly, as if your mind was trying to hold on to your life, giving you the chance to take in a few last images in detail, or give you the chance to listen to sounds of birds singing, the wind rustling, the murmur of voices, and appreciate them one last time, but before he knew it, he was heading down the final corridor which led to the courtyard. Perhaps the naturalness of death meant that your mind was drawn to it; not wanting to prolong life any longer once its end was inevitable.

It was as he reached the doors which led out onto the courtyard that he unexpectedly met the first person that he had wanted to find in the crowd. Gwen stood at the door, waiting for him. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she wrung her hands together, twisting and turning the favour that was held in them. She watched Merlin's every step and he managed to smile at her, just a small smile –it was all he could manage-, but she returned it, with a sad smile of her own that made her eyes look even heavier than they already did.

She stepped forwards as the guards approached and then looked at them.

'Please,' she whispered. Much to Merlin's surprise, the guards, after a moment's hesitation, stopped, although their grip on him didn't loosen. Gwen had that effect on people. It was hard to refuse someone who radiated such gentleness and empathy in every move she made. She moved towards him slowly, trying to stretch out the moment, and then, as best she could with the guards in the way, she hugged him. With his hands bound behind him, Merlin was unable to reciprocate as much as he wanted, but he put his head down on hers and whispered a thank you to her.

'We'll look after them, I promise. Arthur and Gaius.' she replied, moving back to look at him, her eyes strong and full of love. 'I'll really miss you.' He smiled at her and kissed her on the top of her head. She reached up and carefully folded the favour that she had in her hand into his neckerchief and then kissed him on the cheek. With that, the guards gave Merlin another push forward and Gwen reluctantly stepped to one side. Merlin kept his eyes fixed on her for as long as he could; trying to convey his thanks to her for everything.

Soon however, she was out of sight and Merlin felt himself being pushed out of the doors and made to stand still at the top of the stairs of the courtyard while Uther made his entrance onto the balcony. Merlin had seen the courtyard set up for execution on several occasions -the worst time being when it had been set up for Gaius- but never like this. Never with such clarity. Every detail seemed to be driving its way into his mind, until the whole place seemed so real that it became unreal.

In the centre, stood the place of execution. Merlin was surprised to see that a gallows had been set up; he had been expecting to be burnt at the stake, but then they only killed sorcerers that way and as far as anyone knew Merlin wasn't one. A gallows at least would be quicker and less painful. It did of course mean that he wouldn't be able to see anything in those last few seconds; a sack would be placed over his head. He didn't like the thought of that, but equally he didn't want his friends to have to watch his face in those final moments. In the end, he decided if he was going to pick out of the two deaths, the gallows was better; he had just always thought that if he was executed it would be because they had found out about his magic; being burnt at the stake was what he had prepared himself for.

It wasn't on a very tall platform –only a metre or so off the ground-, but it would provide everyone with a good view. And there were a lot of people. Beyond the rope, which swung lightly in the breeze, and the stool, which stood below, waiting to be pulled away, the courtyard was full. From the steps down to the gallows it was knights, soldiers and castle servants who lined the route, but beyond that, towards the gate into the city, the courtyard was filled with the city-folk. Men, women and children of all ages; the muted colours of their clothes looking almost bright in the light of the day. Merlin realised that the majority of them would have seen him with Arthur hundreds of times. What would they think when the charges were read? He forced the question from his mind. The people who mattered to him knew the truth.

Up on the balcony, Uther had appeared, dressed in his full kingly attire and looking every bit the monarch he had been a few months ago, rather than the despairing, helpless man that he had seemed to be of late. He stood looking down, his body turned slightly away as if he would not deign to face the prisoner fully. Arthur wasn't up there, however, and Merlin felt a small sense of relief at the fact. It would not seem right if Arthur was up their, seeming to condemn him as well. He would be in the crowds, close to the front, offering what little he could. Above them, Uther gave a nod and Merlin felt himself being pushed forwards.

Here it was then, the final journey he would take. But he rested in the knowledge that he wasn't taking it alone. No, definitely not alone. He saw Percival first, dressed in his full battle attire, standing tall and strong above his fellow knights. He looked at Merlin and gave him the smallest of nods. A nod of understanding; of respect. He understood why Merlin was doing what he was, even if he didn't like it. Merlin nodded back.

Then Elyan. The same eyes that had just looked at him when Gwen stepped forward now looked at him from her brother's face. There was the same sadness, the same attempt at reassurance. He could see it in the way Elyan lifted his arm and crossed it against his chest. A promise that he too would be there when Merlin couldn't be, to help the people he cared about. Leon copied the gesture when Merlin looked at him and then lowered his eyes before looking up again, a mark of respect from a knight to one in authority above him. Merlin echoed the gesture to all three of them.

It became harder after that. First was Lancelot, right next to Gwaine. The two watched him with completely different expressions on their faces. There was anger in Gwaine's; not at Merlin, but at the situation. He held himself stiffly, as if only the tinniest of voices in his head was stopping him from jumping forward and pulling Merlin away from the situation. Indeed, as Merlin looked at them properly, Gwaine began to move forward and only Lancelot's hand enclosing tightly around the other man's forearm kept him still. Merlin shook his head imperceptibly at Gwaine and managed a small smile, trying to tell him that it was alright. It wasn't, of course, and both he and Gwaine knew that, but some of the fight went out of the knight and his face became still and sad. Merlin took the opportunity to smile at Lancelot; a thankful expression this time. A ghost of a smile slipped across Lancelot's face, an apology and an understanding and a goodbye.

He was led forward a few more paces, past Gaius, who watched him with a pride that shone in his face, but Merlin was soon stopped and made to turn round and face Uther. Much to his relief, Merlin found himself in the line of sight of Gaius, who, when everyone else turned to look at the King, stayed resolutely looking at Merlin. Merlin locked eyes with his mentor, feeling the shared gaze anchoring him and giving him strength as the King spoke his decree.

'Our land has oft' been plagued by those who would befriend and then betray us,' Uther began, his voice strong and sure. Merlin didn't look at him, he looked at Gaius whose gaze never faltered. 'And now this man, manservant to Prince Arthur, has proven to be such a person.' In front of Merlin, Gaius shook his head, a firmness in his eyes that said _I know your loyalty, I will never forget._ 'Two days ago, this traitor was discovered attempting to poison Prince Arthur.' A collective murmur rose up in the crowd; they evidently hadn't been expecting that. It was hard to tell from the low humming of voices, but Merlin got the impression that they didn't believe the charges. 'Since then he has made further threats against my son and also against myself.' This time Gauis' expression changed to affectionate scolding, he raised an eyebrow at Merlin, and the move was so familiar that Merlin almost forgot where he was. Almost.

'For his disloyalty,' Uther continued, 'for his deception and for the high treason he has committed, he will be hung and buried in an unmarked grave.' Through every accusation, Gaius held his gaze firmly, shaking his head, keeping his eyes firm and unwavering. And to the last comment he took a tiny step forward and mouthed, 'No,' to Merlin.

'Thank you,' Merlin whispered, hoping that if Gaius hadn't heard, he had at least managed to read his lips. Before anything else could pass between the two of them, Merlin was turned roughly around. Somewhere beyond the gallows, the drums began, and now time did seem to slow down as he searched out the one remaining person that he had to see before he died.

It didn't take him long to spot Arthur. He had only taken a single step when he did. He stood at the foot of the gallows, waiting for him, offering him support. Or at least that's what Merlin guessed. He suddenly became aware of all the friends around him. Gaius was still just behind him on his left, Lancelot, Gwaine and the others were a few steps further back. This was the closest he would ever come to having them all together in the same place. He searched Arthur's face trying to work out whether he was angry with Merlin for making sure that Uther would execute him, but there was no anger on his face, it was expressionless. Merlin looked at him intently, trying to read his emotions and eventually he saw the muscles in Arthur's face begin to mould themselves into something less neutral.

He felt relief run through him that, while they wouldn't have a verbal conversation, there would be some final form of communication between them.

But as he looked, and as he took a second step towards Arthur and the gallows, he felt his relief begin to trickle away and something different took its place. He realised with shock that it was fear, because Arthur's expression was not the stoic regret that he'd expected, or the final nod of friendship that he'd assumed the Prince's would use when looking at him. No. The man's lips curved into a smile. No, not a smile, not quite. It was smirk. Arthur was looking at him, smiling smugly at him, watching him with victorious self satisfaction.

Merlin faltered, and stopped in his walk, his foot stopping short of his third step. Up until now, Merlin had walked with no resistance at all and the sudden change took the guards by surprise. They halted as well, momentarily confused by his new hesitancy. Merlin felt the crowd bristle at the movement, but he barely noticed them. Something else had his attention entirely; a memory that had, over the last few days, been assumed to be lost, was slowly working its way back into Merlin's mind. Tiny pieces of it sliding into place, like threads of a tapestry being pulled through material to create a clear picture.

Merlin could feel the guards trying to move him on and couldn't compete with their strength. They ushered him forward. Two more steps. But the tapestry was nearly complete and Merlin could feel a chill running through his body, covering him and consuming him.

He'd been wrong. The revelation made him stop again. He'd been so wrong. There had been no poison; there had been no attempt on Arthur's life. He had lied. Neither of those things had happened. But there _had_ been an imposter.

Merlin looked up again at the smirking Prince who watched him with hatred and contempt, a thinly veiled amusement winding its way into his features.

Feeling the weight of his mistake choking him, just as the noose would do in a few moments, Merlin allowed the last thread of the tapestry to slide into place; allowed the truth to fully settle into his mind.

The man in front of him wasn't Arthur.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: What a response to the last chapter! Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews, they've kept me smiling since the weekend. Although, I feel a lot more pressure now with the rest of the story. I hope it will live up to your expectations. A longer chapter this time, which is a good job as the next two are a bit shorter. Hope you enjoy, and please review!

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**Chapter 8**

Proof. Proof. That was the first word that crossed Merlin's mind as the revelation shot through him. Not proof that he could use against the man in front of him, proof that he was right, that this wasn't the vision that he'd been expecting ever since he found out about the spell.

He stood firm against the cobbled stones under his feet, giving himself the precious seconds he would need to think this through. And, despite what Arthur said -the real Arthur- Merlin was a very quick thinker when he needed to be.

The memory that had just returned to him was what he focussed on. It filled in those missing hours before he had woken up in the forest. He had finished his errands for Gaius and gone up to Arthur's room. Arthur had been training with his knights and so Merlin had taken the opportunity to completely clean the room without a constant barrage of orders. It had been whilst cleaning that he came across the small chest hidden at the back of one of the cupboards, buried under piles of clothes and laundry and documents that were several years old. Merlin, being his usual curious self, had instantly pulled the chest out and opened it to find an array of magical instruments, potions and books. And they weren't the sort of things that Merlin was used to dealing with. They were steeped in dark magic; he could sense it as he picked them up and handled them.

That had begun his investigation, he had turned the room upside down searching for evidence and when that had revealed nothing else, he had looked at the items again, comparing the spells in the books to the items and potions that were contained in the box. Only one seemed to match the other items: a spell to take on the physical likeness of another. He had understood instantly and had challenged the imposter the moment he returned from training.

There _had_ been shouting as witnesses had said, as Merlin demanded to know where the real Arthur was, and he _had_ hit his head against the table, as the imposter had said. The man had not taken Merlin's accusations well. When Merlin stepped forward, ready to use his magic, he had found himself hit in the chest by an invisible force from the man. He had been thrown back and had smashed his head. Now he remembered waking up, not having a clue what was happening, and running out of Arthur's chambers and out of the castle in confusion. There had been no alarm bells ringing, no guards trying to stop him. Because in that time, the imposter had needed a plan to make sure that anything Merlin said wouldn't implicate him. The poison had been as good a story as any and if he was a sorcerer then he could easily have opened Gauis poisons' chest, key or not. How pleased he must have been when Merlin returned and had no memory of anything. Merlin cursed himself; he'd made it so easy for the man; he'd even offered himself up for execution.

No. That wasn't Arthur. Mind made up, Merlin turned his attention to escaping. A blast of magic would probably do the trick, but it would do nothing in the way of clearing his name and it would give away to the sorcerer that he was dealing with more than just a servant. Merlin now suspected that the man had no clue that Arthur's unassuming manservant was the most powerful warlock of the age; he wanted to keep it that way.

No, magic was not an option and accusing the Prince of being an imposter would just seem like the desperate act of a guilty man. So then, what other option was there? But the answer came to him almost instantly. A split second later, he let his body pitch forward and go slack in the arms of his captors who had become more and more aggressive at his continual refusal to cooperate. They did as Merlin expected: pulled him back to his feet, loosening their grip somewhat as he found his feet once more.

Merlin took his chance. With as much force as he could muster; he threw his arms down and spun around, feeling the guards lose hold of him for several seconds. The movements were self defence techniques that Arthur had insisted he learn; at the time Merlin had hidden his irritation, knowing that he could free himself with magic much more easily; now he felt like giving Arthur a hug to say thank you; not that the action would go down well with the Prince. A few muttered words later and the guards, after a slight shove from Merlin, suddenly found themselves tripping over what appeared to be nothing. They fell to the floor and Merlin made a run for it. A hand closed round his ankle and he tripped, landing heavily, but he kicked back and felt the hand come lose. Still, he was running out of time. He looked up to see the guards ahead readying themselves, but his eyes searched out the two knights that he knew would help him. He got up and raced the few steps towards them.

'We were wrong,' he called to them as he reached them, and that was all it took for Lancelot and Gwaine to charge into action. The two of them grabbed him and pulled him back through the column of soldiers, surrounding him on both sides. They were faster than even Merlin had suspected and soon, after pushing past soldiers who looked utterly confused at the actions of two of Camelot's most prominent soldiers, managed to make a path to an emptier part of the courtyard, which was filled with civilians. By this time, however, the other guards had roused themselves into action and had drawn their swords to challenge the seemingly renegade knights that were currently trying to rescue a prisoner. Gwaine and Lancelot drew their swords as well and for a few moments, there was an uneasy truce. Every single soldier in the courtyard knew that Lancelot and Gwaine were highly skilled and incredibly dangerous fighters in their own right, but put them together and you had a lethal battle ahead of you. On the balcony, Uther had seen their hesitation.

'Arrest them all, now!' he shouted.

One brave man leapt forwards with a yell and the others followed suit. Merlin didn't have a clue what to do to help. He tried a few subtle spells to try and even the odds a bit for his two allies, but Lancelot elbowed him so hard in the chest after each time that he decided he'd take the knight's not to gentle warning and leave the fighting to them. Except for a few more spells, of course; ones which saw soldiers inexplicably dropping their weapons, while the fight raged around them.

And a chaotic fight it was. They were surrounded on all sides, the clash of swords echoing through the courtyard, while the citizens of Camelot fled with shouts and screams. The fleeing people were enough to break up the soldiers that had started to attack them from the gallows side and the three of them took the opportunity to push back in that direction. On the other side, closer to the castle, the servants were also taking flight, pushing their way through the soldiers there. Again the numbers thinned and Merlin felt, for the first time, that they might actually escape. He looked round, trying to spot not-Arthur, but in the crush of people, he was hard pressed to see anything. Further towards the castle, the soldiers seemed to be loosing formation. On familiar territory, with huge numbers, Merlin found this odd, until he noticed Percival moving across them, seemingly helping with the fight, but evidently causing as much disruption as he could. He assumed that Elyan and Leon were doing the same.

On both sides of him, Gwaine and Lancelot were swinging their swords in graceful arcs, sending knights to the ground all around them. Merlin noticed, however, that not a single man had been slain. They had been injured, knocked out by blows to the head from the hilts of the two men's swords and the flat edges of the blades, but no-one lay dying or dead on the floor.

The soldiers around them seemed to notice this too, for their movements became more uncertain. After all, it was hard enough to attack two of Arthur's most trusted and skilled knights, let alone do so when they were doing everything in their power to avoid taking the life of their fellow men. They were not the actions of two men who had betrayed their King and Prince and turned against their fellow soldiers. And so the fighting let up somewhat and the three of them, who had managed to push their way to the edge of the fray during the fighting, took their chance.

'Run!' Lancelot yelled, kicking one soldier square in the chest, while Gwaine delivered a punch to another man. Both of the dazed soldiers were sent sprawling back into their comrades, knocking them over, giving the three of them enough time to make a run for the side gate.

'Shut the gates!' Merlin heard Uther yell from above them, but the guards didn't have enough time to push the enormous doors into place before Lancelot and Gwaine were upon them, knocking them out with a few well timed blows and then hauling Merlin through the gap when he slowed to turn back round one last time.

'Not the time for taking in the view, Merlin,' Gwaine called to him as they set off at a run.

They had found their way to the side gate which led into the east side of the city. Behind them, the pounding if dozens of feet could be heard. They continued running, past startled citizens and loaded market stalls.

'We need to get to the stables,' Lancelot shouted. They wound their way through the streets, taking shortcuts that Merlin had discovered during his many years working in the city and running errands for Gaius. The sounds of their pursuers lessened for a while and seemed to spread out in all directions. He wondered if Leon and the others were leading them down false trails. Before long, they found themselves racing down the street which led to the stables. There were four guards outside, but they were knocked unconscious with ease and Merlin all but raced past them as they fell, and searched out three horses. Two had just been brought in by a stable hand who, quite willingly, stood in a corner when told to by an angry knight with a sword. Merlin quickly saddled a third with Lancelot's help and within seconds they were riding out of the stables and heading towards the city gates.

'Which one should we make for?' Gwaine asked.

'East,' Merlin called back, just as the warning bells began to ring. The delay in sounding them struck Merlin as odd. He wondered who had had a hand in keeping them silenced for a little longer. It might have bought them the time they needed. 'We need the cover of the forest.' Neither argued with his logic. But even as they galloped through the city, startling several of the townsfolk who were forced to jump back quickly to avoid being trampled, they realised their problem. With the warning bell sounding, all orders would be to close the gates. As they rounded the last street, that was proven to be the case. The guards were closing them.

'Faster!' Gwaine yelled at them, spurring his horse on until it was all but flying across the cobbles. Merlin followed suit, as did Lancelot, urging the creatures on.

'Merlin,' Lancelot called quietly, only just audible over the gallop of hooves. 'I won't elbow you in the chest this time,' he said meaningfully. Merlin nodded as he caught his drift and then fixed his attention on the hinges of the gate; he uttered a few words, that would mould them into place temporarily, and sure enough the progress of the gates stopped.

'Something's wrong,' Gwaine called to them. 'Now's our chance.' They both took their swords out as they got closer. The guards trying to close the gate, realising that it would not budge, stayed their efforts and drew their weapons as well, but the sheer force of the horses driving towards them, pushed them back before either of the knights had to swing their swords. Gwaine gave a yell of victory as they charged through the gates and galloped towards the cover of the forest.

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They rode for several hours, taking to streams when they could to try and hide their tracks, until at last Lancelot deemed it safe for them to stop. They did so and made camp as best they could with absolutely no supplies. A quick whispered spell ensured that they had a fire, and a lucky shot with Gwaine's sword meant that they had some rabbit for lunch. It was a meagre meal, but it did the trick. Throughout the meal, Lancelot was very quiet, but Gwaine was quite happy to talk. He chatted away, musing about all the times he'd found himself out in the wild fending for himself with not a single bit of silver or gold to his name. Merlin enjoyed hearing the tales of his many foolhardy exploits, but soon it became harder to concentrate on Gwaine. Thoughts of Arthur were beginning to consume him.

'Felt good to be fighting against noble men again for a change,' Gwaine grinned as he gnawed at a bone. 'Don't get me wrong, I'm all for knighthood and the like nowadays, but an illegal exploit every now and then really keeps me happy. Glad you changed your mind on the whole execution idea,' he added, giving Merlin a friendly shove. Merlin managed a small smile.

'Thank you, both of you,' he said. 'I don't know how I'd have got out of there otherwise.'

'Merlin,' Lancelot began uneasily. 'You were determined to go through with this…'

'Don't encourage him.'

'I'm not,' Lancelot continued, 'but we need to know: what changed your mind? You said you were a danger to Arthur. You said you couldn't risk it.'

'I was wrong.'

'We found the ritual, we found the spell,' he prompted. 'You were so convinced.'

'I know, but that spell wasn't used on me.'

'What? But you tried to kill Arthur.'

'No, I didn't. I remember now. I wasn't trying to kill Arthur, because that isn't Arthur.'

The knights reacted differently to the statement, but it was obvious that neither of them believed him. Lancelot frowned at him, scepticism and doubt written all across his features, while Gwaine just laughed.

'Not Arthur!' he cried. 'Come on, Merlin. That's far-fetched even for Camelot.'

'No it isn't. I'm telling you the truth.' He quickly filled them in on his missing memory and what it had revealed to him, but it did little to convince them.

'You said yourself that the sorcerer could imprint a memory or a vision on your mind at any time,' Lancelot pointed out slowly. 'What if that's what happened? What if that memory isn't real?'

'Why would the sorcerer do that?' Merlin asked. 'What would be the point?'

'He wants you to kill Arthur. Now you've got the perfect reason to. You think he's an imposter.'

'I _know_ he's an imposter,' Merlin retorted.

'Merlin-'

'I know how this looks,' Merlin interrupted. 'I know it's insane, but trust me: that isn't Arthur. It wasn't a sorcerer influencing me; I'm not under any spell. There would be no point in a sorcerer giving me that memory as I was walking to my execution. No-one would have believed me if I'd said Arthur was an imposter. And there was no way I could escape to go and kill him anyway.'

'You might have found a way,' Lancelot said quietly, fixing Merlin with a stare.

Merlin considered it. He guessed that if the sorcerer had known about his magic, he might have hoped Merlin would use it to kill Arthur there and then, but that was by no means a sure thing. And besides, Merlin was quite sure by now that the sorcerer had no idea about his magic; he hadn't revealed it when he'd confronted the imposter and he certainly hadn't given Arthur-who-wasn't-Arthur any indication that he had magic since then.

'I don't think so,' he eventually replied.

There was a long and uncomfortable silence as the three men absorbed the words. Merlin could see on their faces that they weren't convinced. It wasn't that they didn't want to believe him –that much was more than obvious- it was just that the story seemed so far fetched. Merlin couldn't begrudge them their doubt. He was acting exactly as a man who had just been fed a false vision would do.

'I know it's not much to go on.'

'It's nothing to go on,' Gwaine agreed. 'I've seen a lot of things since I signed up, but Arthur as an imposter.' He shook his head. 'Nah, not a chance.'

'Why not?' Merlin pressed. 'How do you know he can't be an imposter?' Gwaine leant forwards, and gave him a sad smile and a shrug.

'Because, my friend, you'd have noticed an imposter straight away. To impersonate Arthur, they'd have to fool you, and you're not stupid. You know Arthur too well.'

Merlin opened his mouth to argue, but a weight crashed down on him as he realised the logic and the truth in Gwaine's words. He was right. Merlin spent hours with Arthur every day and he had not suspected a thing until he saw the chest of magical items hidden away in the wardrobe.

'He's seemed different over the last few weeks,' Merlin pointed out weakly. 'We've all seen that. 'He's stronger again, more confident-'

'He's more like himself,' Gwaine interrupted gently. 'It was what he was like before that seemed odd. It just means he's getting over what Morgana did.'

'But,' Merlin persisted, 'if someone had been watching Arthur for a long time, they might well act his part in that way. If they knew Arthur well, if they'd seen the way Arthur and I interact, they could learn his mannerisms, how he reacts, everything,' Merlin tried. 'They could fool me.' But he could hear the desperation in his own words.

'Have you once, over the course of the last two days, seen anything in Arthur that made you think he was acting strangely?' Lancelot asked slowly. 'To keep up the pretence when emotions were running so high would have been difficult.'

Merlin opened and closed his mouth again and then got up. He began pacing across the camp. The question was a hard one; one that he didn't want to face. On many occasions, Arthur had acted exactly as Merlin had expected him to. At no point had he been suspicious. Except…

'Yes!' he shouted with determination. 'Yes, he has acted strangely. I woke up on the first night from a nightmare and he was there, watching me sleep. Why would Arthur have gone to the dungeons then, why would he stay if I was asleep?'

'He was worried for you, Merlin, we all saw it.'

'But Arthur doesn't keep vigils. He just doesn't,' Merlin argued. 'He's all about action. And when I woke up, he seemed genuinely at a loss for what to say to me.'

'Well if you were having a nightmare, he would be,' Gwaine pointed out. 'He's hardly the type to offer words of sympathy if-'

'The nightmare!' Merlin interrupted, his eyes going wide. He turned to face the other two, mouth open. 'I thought it was a vision, but it can't be if I'm not under any enchantment.'

'We don't know that-'

'He put it in my head,' Merlin carried on. 'The imposter. He put that nightmare in my head. Not like a vision,' he added quickly as Lancelot opened his mouth. 'He manipulated my dreams; that's easier magic. I would have thought,' he said quickly as Gwaine frowned at him. 'That's why he was in the dungeons that night: to carry out the spell; to convince me that I really was a danger; to ensure that I didn't try and fight the execution.'

'There's no way he could have known you'd submit to it,' Gwaine argued.

'Yes there is, because if he knows Arthur well -if he's been watching him- then he's been watching me as well. He would have done his research; he would have heard all the stories about Arthur and me saving each other's lives. This man knows me. He knows that I would never want to hurt Arthur, so he used the nightmare to convince me that it was inevitable.'

Lancelot shook his head sadly, and Gwaine wouldn't meet his gaze.

'I know it sounds crazy,' Merlin said desperately, 'but that makes sense. He acted oddly when I woke up; he stayed for a while and it felt like we didn't even know each other. He didn't say anything; he wasn't himself. He had no idea how to speak to me.'

'That doesn't mean he's an imposter,' Gwaine argued. 'It's means he's Arthur and he doesn't have a clue how to help someone in an emotional state. No offense,' he added quickly, but Merlin didn't care. Things were slotting into place. They were making sense to him and he needed the others to see it.

'That's not the only thing though. I had nightmares last night and I'm sure I heard someone outside the window.' Again the knights shook their heads; they were exchanging glances and looking at him with sympathy. 'Listen to what I'm saying!' he told them firmly. 'It's all there for you to see, if you'll just consider it. Give me a chance, please,' he begged. Another glance passed between them, but eventually Lancelot nodded.

'Alright Merlin, we're listening. What other proof do you have?'

'It was Arthur who found the remains of the ritual. You said yourself,' he continued, pointing at Lancelot, 'that it was a miracle he found it. It was a completely unwarranted place to go and search and yet Arthur went and managed to come across the one thing that would prove I was still a danger. Doesn't that seem odd to you?'

'But the fact is,' Gwaine pointed out, 'there was a magical ritual. If it's not being used on you, then who's it for?'

'Maybe it was never used. Maybe the imposter put it there during the night to convince me I was a danger to Arthur in the hopes that Uther would definitely execute me when he found out magic was involved.'

'He was trying to get Uther to clear your name,' Lancelot argued.

'Was he? Did any of you see him talking to Uther?'

'He told us,' the knight said.

'He also told you that I tried to kill him, but that was a lie. He wasn't trying to clear my name at all. He was trying to get rid of me.'

'Why? You're no threat.'

'I am, because I found out about him. He had no way of being sure I'd never remember, so what better way to deal with me then get me executed and assure my silence? By throwing in the murder attempt and pretending to fight against my execution, it just made sure that no-one else would become suspicious.' He looked firmly at them both. 'Can't you see how well his plan's working? Neither of you can believe it's not Arthur.'

'This is all down to circumstance. We haven't seen him act out of character once. Apart from after the nightmare -which could just be Arthur dealing badly with emotions- you haven't either,' Lancelot pointed out; scepticism still the main emotion on his face.

'Yes I have,' Merlin argued. 'When I walked towards the gallows, he was smirking at me. He was enjoying watching me walk to my death. That wasn't Arthur. That was the imposter making sure that I realised, when it was too late, that I'd got it wrong.'

'Nobody else saw that,' Lancelot added quietly.

'That's the point,' Merlin answered in frustration. 'It was meant for me alone. And,' he added, his eyes going wide as realisation churned through him. 'He forced me to threaten Uther again, to make sure I was executed.'

'How can he have forced you?'

'When I talked to him, I told him that if he tried to get me freed, I would threaten Uther. We all know what the King's like; he'll kill somebody instantly for that. Arthur –the imposter-' he saw Lancelot and Gwaine exchange another look, 'knew that I would go through with that. He left saying that he would release me himself; he knew that would force my hand.'

Around them, the breeze stirred the leaves of the trees and a chill encompassed them for several seconds. Gwaine threw a few extra pieces of wood on the fire and Lancelot stoked it carefully. Exhausted from the events of the day and the fight to prove his innocence, Merlin sat back down and stared into the flames.

'You know we want to believe you, Merlin,' Lancelot began gently.

'Then believe me,' he asked. 'Please. I was willing to go to my death to protect Arthur; I wouldn't have run from that fate unless I genuinely believed that the man we saw was an imposter.'

'But the fact is, Merlin, this could all be in your head. It _could_ be an imprinted memory.'

'I _know_ it isn't. If I had even the smallest doubt then I would say so, but I don't.'

'But what if it isn't true?' Gwaine asked, a seriousness coming into his tone; something that Merlin didn't hear very often. 'What if we take you back and you hurt Arthur -kill him even- only to discover that he _is_ the real Arthur after all? What if you're wrong?

'What if I'm right?' he asked instead. 'What if I'm right and we're leaving Camelot at the mercy of a sorcerer posing as a Prince, while Arthur is kept prisoner somewhere?'

For the first time since he had started his explanation, Merlin saw a flicker genuine consideration cross the faces of the two men. He said nothing, not wanting to brush it away with words, but in the end, their resolve seemed to strengthen. Both of them shared a final look and then fixed their gaze on Merlin.

'Alright; you've convinced me…for now,' Gwaine nodded.

'And me,' Lancelot agreed. Merlin felt relief flood through him and a weight lifted from him as he once again found himself with the trust of his friends.

'But if you start hallucinating…' Gwaine began.

'Then you can kill me,' Merlin nodded.

'I wasn't going to be that extreme!' Gwaine told him incredulously.

'Oh.'

'But I'll knock you out.' Merlin nodded his thanks, but then glanced over at Lancelot. The knight looked far less laid back with the prospect of a hallucinating Merlin who needed to be contained. Eventually, though, he nodded his assent.

'Thank you,' Merlin breathed.

'What now then?' Gwaine asked.

'We go back to Camelot and we find Arthur. It's a rescue mission.'

'How do we know he's there? How do we even know he's alive?' Lancelot asked hesitantly.

'Because the spell the sorcerer's using to change his appearance requires the person he's impersonating to be alive if he wants to sustain it for more than a few weeks.'

'So, he's definitely alive?'

'Yes,' Merlin nodded, refusing to believe anything to the contrary. The final question circled silently around the three of them until at last Gwaine voiced it.

'So if the Arthur we've seen is an imposter, then where's the real Arthur?'

The question sent a coldness running through Merlin.

'I don't know.'

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	9. Chapter 9

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews; lovely to read as always. We're jumping back in time a little bit in this chapter. Need to find out what's happening to a certain Prince that, in actual fact, we haven't seen anything of so far! Hope you like, and please review!

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**Chapter 9**

Arthur went through the routine in his head. What could he hear; did it sound real? What could he see; did it look real? What could he feel; did it feel real? It was what his focus had come down to now; testing everything to see if it matched up to what he knew his reality was like. But it was hard to do that when reality had become so different to what he was used to.

He had no idea how long it had been, but he guessed that it must have been a few weeks at least since he had woken up in the dark, lying on a floor made of rock in just his night clothes, with both hands bound behind his back, and his legs similarly restrained. Add to that the fact that there was also a heavy chain tied tightly around his waist which was welded into an iron weight that was about the same size as a small house and it made for a relatively effective prison.

For the first few days after it had happened, he had nearly torn his throat to shreds screaming at anyone who could hear to let them know where he was, but it soon became apparent that no-one was coming to find him. Every now and then, he would wake up to find a small candle flickering and some meagre amounts of food and water. He was forced to eat and drink without using his hands, and his pride almost made him refuse the small rations, but the more logical part of his mind told him that any strength he gained from the food could be of help to him. And so he had eaten like a dog feeding off a plate. He tried to stay awake to try and see who his captor and provider was, but he never managed it. The tiredness in his body betrayed him and he fell asleep quickly. He hadn't ruled out the possibility that the food was laced with sleeping potion.

Those few hours with a flickering candle giving him light had done little to ease his anxiety. They had, however, given him a chance to observe his prison. Arthur's best guess was that it was a cave. It felt like a cave: cold and damp. He could almost feel the earth above trying to crush him. The cavern he was in was huge; not that he could tell exact measurements; but it extended beyond the light of the candle in all directions and that was enough to give him a sense of the enormity of the place.

Of course he had tried to escape it. All his energies had gone into trying to scratch away at the ropes that bound his wrists, but that had done nothing except tear his fingernails as he scrapped away at the tough fibres. He had tried searching the ground for a sharp rock that could be used as a knife, but the ground was clear of all rubble within the circumference of the circle that the chain allowed him to move around in. When the candle was lit, however, he did notice that just beyond his reach, there were the exact rocks that he would need to escape the binds. That made him angry, not least because it meant someone was toying with him, and Arthur did not like to be toyed with.

And so the first few days had continued in that way - trying to escape, becoming angry and violent, shouting until his voice went - until he began to accept the fact that his strategic and military skills would not get him out of this one. His attention had, therefore, been diverted elsewhere; primarily to those in Camelot that must, by now, be looking for him. The thought gave him comfort -knowing that Camelot's finest knights would be searching the Kingdom for him- and then he imagined Merlin's clumsy attempts at locating him and despaired of ever being found. But a voice in his head chided him on the thought, and with a strange sense of poignancy he realised that, of everyone, it would be Merlin that would be doing absolutely everything in his power to find Arthur and bring him back.

But there was no rescue, there were no knights riding in to find him, there were no sounds to indicate that he was anything other than alone. There was nothing he could do but sit there and wait, and Arthur didn't do that sort of thing. If there was a problem then he would find a way around out; if there was trouble then Arthur would ride into action and put things right. There was nothing worse to him than inaction and yet he could do nothing.

So it was that by the time his captor appeared, he was angrier than he remembered being in a long time. He heard the footsteps a minute or so before the man appeared. He knew it wasn't a rescue; the steps were too confident, too sure of themselves. Arthur had used those precious seconds to compose himself, to cover his anger with a more rational mask, letting his emotions simmer away beneath the surface under his control, but the shock of what he saw was enough to render him speechless. All demands and questions and threats died on his lips as hundreds of sconces around the room suddenly lit at once and a young man with blonde hair and dressed in the uniform of the knights of Camelot emerged.

The man walked forward, a knowing smirk on his face. Arthur felt as if a mirror was moving towards him. It was him. Somebody who looked exactly like him.

'Who…?' he tried, but he couldn't form the words for the sentence; he hated how weak it made him look.

'Something wrong Arthur Pendragon?' the man asked. His voice didn't sound as Arthur had expected, but he had a feeling that it was his own voice. There was mockery in it; the same mockery that he would often use on Merlin, but now it seemed much more sinister.

'Who are you?' Arthur demanded, finding his voice as his anger spilled out from where he had forced it down in preparation for the confrontation. He tried to get to his feet, but stopped when he realised that the attempt would probably end with him falling. Suddenly, however, the ropes on his hands and feet snapped; the eyes of the doppelganger in front of him glowed gold.

'I'm you. I'd have thought that would be obvious,' the man smiled.

Something in Arthur snapped at the nonchalant answer. He struggled to his feet, his legs just about managing to stay strong after being confined for so long. He took several halting steps forwards as his ankles got used to holding his weight again, but before he could reach the man, the chain around his waist pulled him back sharply.

'Who are you?' he yelled.

'I'm nearly you; I just need a few more things from you.'

And that was when reality twisted into something that he couldn't make sense of. The man came close to him, held out his hand and muttered some words. His eyes glowed gold and instantly Arthur felt a shimmer of energy whisper across his body. He wanted to cry out, but before he could he found himself in the council rooms.

Arthur hated council meetings; of all the extra duties he had had to take on board since his father had fallen ill, it was council meetings that he most despised. It wasn't that he didn't have great respect for all the men on the Council –not at all. But they were just so dull. On occasion, Merlin would stand off to the side during these meetings, ready to serve Arthur if he needed anything, and those were the only times that Arthur even remotely enjoyed himself. He would keep Merlin in sight at all times and watch as the man stifled yawns and tried to hide sniggers at some of the pompous comments that came out of the mouths of the Lords.

Often they would go over the same thing hundreds of times and Arthur had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Merlin however –out of sight and out of mind to the men- would do all the eye rolling required. He would purposely catch Arthur's gaze and make it clear how bored he was. Several times he had even taken to mimicking the gestures of the Council member who was talking at the time. It was all Arthur could do to ignore him. He always told him off for it afterwards of course, but Merlin knew exactly when he could get away with things, and that offence –one that broke up to the mundane atmosphere of the meetings- was definitely one that Arthur wouldn't argue too vehemently against.

Merlin wasn't, however, in the current meeting. Hopefully it would be short, but the topic of discussion was the allocation of the lands on the outskirts of Camelot and the means by which they could be protected. Having studied military and geographical strategy, Arthur could reel off the best course of action straightaway, but the Lords insisted on him going over it again and again, with much more scrutiny than they normally did. Arthur felt like he'd repeated the same things hundreds of times by the time the meeting was over. The Lords got up to go, but suddenly they began the shimmer and shine. Arthur looked around in horror as their bodies began to glow like flames. He shouted out.

Arthur heard his voice echo around the cavern, but cut his cry off half way through. He took several stumbling steps backwards, twisting to try and understand his sudden change in place, but he soon realised that he had never been in the Council chambers. He had been trapped here for days. But then what had that been?

'You're most kind, Arthur.'

Arthur snapped his gaze towards the man.

'What did you do to me?' he hissed, advancing menacingly again, this time stopping before the chain pulled tight.

'Just put a scenario in your head. I've got a Council Meeting this afternoon and I need to make sure I answer as you would. You're very informative, I must say,' he said pleasantly.

'Stay out of my head,' Arthur snapped. It came out more forcefully than he intended because of the fear that rippled through him at the words. Yes, that might have been an illusion, but he had fallen straight into it and accepted it instantly. Almost like a dream that, on waking, is so obviously unreal and yet while the dreamer is asleep is the only reality they know. It should have been obvious that it was fake; he had been standing in the cavern –which he now realised couldn't be a cavern, not when the light from the sconces had revealed so many pillar-like structures carved into the rock- a split second before, but he hadn't once thought it was anything other than a genuine Council Meeting.

'Trust me, I would if I could, but it's hard work pretending to be someone else. There's only so much you can learn from watching you, even if I have been doing it for a few years.'

'Who are you?' he demanded, forcing every ounce of authority he could into his voice, but the man seemed unperturbed. Arthur, on the other hand, felt a chill at the familiarity with which the man spoke about him.

'I'm you, at least until I have to be. Shouldn't be much longer. It's surprisingly easy to take over a Kingdom when you look like the Prince.'

'You'll never manage that. Too many people know-'

'Know what?' he asked, feigned confusion on his face. 'Know you?' He gave a small smile and shook his head. 'No-one's questioned me yet. But then why would they? You're an arrogant Prince who doesn't like to be questioned.'

Arthur didn't reply. Surely someone couldn't slide into his place so easily with so little suspicion. And as for not questioning him…Arthur was surrounded by friends who would constantly question him. None more so than-'

'Even Merlin,' he interrupted, as if reading Arthur's thoughts, 'hasn't said anything. But then, I'm not surprised. As long as I overload him with chores, throw in a few depreciating comments and treat him like a slave, he won't question anything. And the knights, well…it's a wonder Camelot's survived this long if they're your best and brightest. They can swing a sword though, I'll give them that.'

'This is insane,' Arthur told him. 'You'll never pull this off.' But even he doubted his words. How could everyone have remained so oblivious to the fact that their Prince was an imposter? Even Merlin. That was what most worried Arthur. Whatever act this man was giving, it had to be a convincing one.

'Oh, I will,' he nodded, his voice serious, 'because I can act any part, especially when I've got my muse trapped down here, showing me in advance what I need to do, how I need to react, what I need to say. You'll give me everything I need to convince people I'm you. And you won't be able to do anything about it.'

And that had begun Arthur's new version of reality, where every new scenario seemed to be his life, fully and completely, until the darkness of the underground building –whatever it was- or the brightness of the lit sconces, came into focus again and he realised that he was living in waking dreams a lot of the time. He tried to fight them, of course he did, over and over again, but he would always come round to find that he had given away secrets and strategies and alliances without realising what he was doing. His feelings of guilt and treachery increased with every new hallucination as he watched himself help this traitor overthrow the Kingdom.

But then had come some new illusions. Up until then his thoughts, when considering what he was giving away of himself, had spread out on a wide scale; they had encompassed the Kingdom and the future. Now though, his thoughts shrank back down to a level where there was just him and the sort of person he was with the people closest to him.

Merlin.

A long while into his captivity, Arthur found himself thrown into many waking dreams about his manservant; dreams that convinced Arthur that Merlin had tried to poison him. Of course, he could hardly believe it, but in his hallucinations it was the only truth he knew and the evidence against Merlin was damning. Only when he was released from the illusions could he let his knowledge of the doppelganger's plan inform his decisions. Merlin had not tried to kill anyone, least of all the person he believed to be Prince Arthur. He was being set up.

But the knowledge did little to comfort Arthur, because he knew how much the word of a servant counted for when next to that of a Prince. What had followed had only served to root Arthur's fears even more deeply. The traitor's illusions forced Arthur to watch and be a part of Merlin's plight in the dungeons. He had found himself face to face with a Merlin protesting his innocence, to a Merlin under the influence of sorcery who had accepted his execution and would risk threatening the King to make sure it went ahead. Arthur had pleaded with him; felt the desperation deep inside of him as he watched his friend refuse offers of escape. He had allowed his anger at the man's selfless plan to show; he had felt the determination to find the true culprit in the form of a sorcerer; he had felt the relief when magic had been proven to be involved; he had felt the utter desolation of realising that Merlin would not be saved.

Arthur had lived through the majority of Merlin's plight genuinely and openly; his emotions raw and devastating, only to wake and find the traitor using his pain and hopelessness as a framework for the false reactions he would then weave into the situation. The violation of it, the utter helplessness he felt and the guilt he constantly lived with knowing that he was helping to strengthen the man's deception, drove Arthur mad.

And so he determined that he would find a way, any way, to distinguish between reality and the living dreams. That he would find a way of identifying when he was being used as a practice run for a conversation. Once he had done that, he reasoned, he could react in a way contrary to his character; he could be a player in the game as well. The traitor would copy him and reveal himself as being an imposter. That was all Arthur could do.

So he questioned everything. The traitor had told him, whether through boasting or the belief that it would be of no use, that the initial illusion would be created by him, but that after that it would feed off Arthur's expectations of the situation. Arthur's knowledge of Merlin's character, therefore, often meant that the traitor had a heads up as to how Merlin's side of the conversation would go. If, however, Arthur's expectations were wrong, the traitor could still change the illusion to get him back on track.

But he could use that. He trained himself in every spare moment to check if the reality he was living in held true to what he knew. Did it hold too true to his expectations? Did situations take a sudden and unexpected turn? Those, and many more questions, were the ones that ran through his head at every moment; they were his only defence against the intrusion of his mind that was slowly sentencing Merlin to death.

But before he could fully implement it, he ran out of time. The imposter came to see him, a smile of triumph on his face. Merlin had done exactly as Arthur had expected. He had forced Uther's hand. The execution would go ahead.

For the first time, Arthur wanted his reality to be nothing more than a waking dream.

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	10. Chapter 10

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews, lovely to read.

Just out of interest, is anyone else finding that their emails from are suddenly not arriving? I keep on logging into my account and it says that my email provider has marked them as spam so they're not sending them out, but emails have never gone into my junk folder, so I don't understand what they're on about. Just thought I'd ask.

Anyway, more Arthur in this chapter; I'm being mean to him, the poor guy.

Please review!

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**Chapter 10**

Arthur waited with a sense of terrible helplessness for the traitor to come back. Since the previous night –or at least Arthur had assumed it was night-, when his captor had come in and spoken of Merlin's, now certain, execution, Arthur had fought against the chain that bound him; desperate to break free, desperate to reveal the traitor's deceptions to Camelot. Desperate to save Merlin. And yet it was to no avail.

His desperation increased as time passed; every second echoing in his head like the snap of a rope pulling taut. He had to get out. He had to get free. He had to stop Merlin from being his usual self-sacrificing self. That part of Merlin was one of the reasons why, despite years of friendship, Arthur could not bring himself to stop making teasing and sometimes –he knew- downright horrible remarks to his manservant. Because if Merlin acted with such devoted loyalty when Arthur treated him so terribly, then how would he start acting if Arthur treated him with the respect and affection that both of them knew were there? What sacrifices would Merlin make; what stupid and yet utterly humbling decisions would he take?

It was with those thoughts and revelations in mind that Arthur pulled at the chain, screaming in frustration at its futility, but he had to try. He couldn't just sit and do nothing; it wasn't in him to wait silently as a friend suffered; he had to be doing something to change it. So it was that Arthur carried on until his hands were covered in fiery blisters that screamed at him with each desperate pull on the chain. Around his waist, an angry line of red had seeped through the shirt of his night clothes.

He held firmly to the evidence of his struggles; it was proof to him that he was trying; that he was doing everything he could.

But it wasn't enough. As the time passed, that was the thought that kept echoing around the cavern in his shouts.

It wasn't enough. It hadn't been enough. Because surely, by now, it was too late. He could see no passage of time in here, there was no light source, aside from the fires that the traitor lit, but the deep fear inside of him told him that it had already happened. He hadn't done enough to save Merlin. But still his attempts at escape continued -more out of habit than conviction- while he struggled to push away the execution scene that was trying to form in his imagination.

The sound of footsteps managed to stop the picture from forming, but his struggle only increased. Because if the traitor was coming, then Arthur didn't want to be here to hear what he had to say. What other news could he be bringing aside from the one piece of information that Arthur was fighting against with every ounce of strength in him?

Around him, light, which until now had been coming from the small candle, flared through the cavern as the sconces were lit by magic. They cast illumination upon the marks of Arthur's fight. The blood on his waist seemed brighter, angrier; the blisters on his hand had disfigured his skin beyond recognition, but still he didn't stop, even as the traitor approached, confidence in his step, arrogance in his movement.

'Did you have somewhere you needed to be?' the traitor asked. Arthur didn't look at him, couldn't bear to see the malice in the eyes that looked like his own; couldn't bear to see that the words were coming from lips that were his own, given to him in a voice that was his own. 'What's the matter Arthur? From everything I've seen, you never really liked Merlin. Surely it saves you the hassle of having such an incompetent servant…now that he's dead.'

Arthur felt his whole body flinch as if something had startled him. It was such a small movement really, so inconspicuous, but inwardly, the entire world pitched and he felt like his very being was falling. Falling and falling into some blackness that was a thousand times more intense than the one he had been trapped in during the last few weeks.

Merlin. Merlin. Merlin. Merlin.

The name kept on repeating around his mind like a whirlpool. This couldn't be real. This was surely the dream. He looked around. What could he see? The traitor smiling at him; it met all of his expectations, it was exactly as he would expect the man to react. Did that make it real or not? And he could see blood; evidence that he had been desperately trying to stop something terrible and horrific from happening.

What could he hear? The echo of the man's words around the vast infrastructure; the mockery in his tone. He could hear his own breaths; they had been fast before –his body trying to draw in air so that he could free himself from the chain-, but now they seemed more ragged, like his chest was grabbing at the air, fearful that it would not find enough. The in and out gasps seemed to match the beat of Merlin's name reverberating around his mind; adding impact to the word, drawing his grief deep inside his body.

What could he feel? That was the questioning of his reality that stopped his systematic process of determining the truth, because of all things, it was what he could feel that was shaping reality around him. A deep and gnawing ache in his stomach; a physical weight and pressure that was hammering into his chest. A howl that was vibrating through his mind. There were no more answers that he could give to shape a reality of his choosing.

It was real, so real. So heartbreakingly real.

'It was quick, you'll be pleased to know,' the traitor continued as if he was oblivious to the Prince's grief. He couldn't be of course; Arthur could feel his body beginning to tremble; the man must be able to see. Arthur fought to control his reactions; he was a warrior, trained to deal with pain. But not like this, not this inner pain that threatened to tear him apart.

The traitor continued, evidently having no intention of stopping. Arthur allowed Merlin's name to ring louder in his head, trying to drown out one pain with another; he couldn't bear this, he couldn't. 'He kicked for a bit, like they do. You could see his hands clawing at the air.' He laughed quietly to himself as if remembering a slightly amusing story. Arthur clenched his fists; clenched them as hard as he could. 'I don't know who he was reaching for; there was no-one to help him.'

Arthur felt the pressure of his nails on the palms of his hands; imagined the crushing force of the rope against Merlin's neck. He felt his breathing becoming even quicker and shallower; the trembling in his body beginning again, but try as he might, he could no longer control it. He felt power surging through his body and muscles, urging them into action –violent action- anything that would take the pain that was swelling and writhing and twisting through his chest and force it onto the man behind him.

Slowly he turned and took several steps forward. A far too familiar face, full of amusement, met the fury of his own.

'You could see the fear in him from the moment he stepped outside.'

'Who are you?' Arthur asked him, his voice shimmering with rage.

'Pathetic really. I can see why you always told him he was an idiot.'

Arthur felt the jibe like a knife slicing through his chest. Every throwaway insult he'd ever inflicted on Merlin flashed through his mind and he saw each one winding together like fibres twisting to form a rope: strong and unbreakable.

'Who are you?' he demanded, louder this time, the fury building through his body.

'And embarrassing as well. You were better off not being there. To think you hired and kept such a coward in your service for so long.'

Arthur had meant to repeat his question once more; he didn't want to respond to the traitor's words; they were meant only to inflict more pain on him. But the slandering of Merlin's name sent protective instincts surging through him and before he could stop himself he found himself being lured into the man's game.

'Merlin is not a coward,' he hissed.

'Merlin _was_ a coward, Arthur,' he said, shaking his head in feigned disapproval of the slip. '_Was_,' he repeated. 'I really did think you'd be quicker on the up take. Merlin _was _a coward.'

'Stop it.'

'Merlin _was _your servant.'

'I said stop it!'

'Merlin _was _your friend.'

'Enough!'

'Merlin _was _alive.' With each sentence, the man stepped closer, and through his hatred, fury and pain, Arthur realised that the imposter was now in striking distance. Without another second of delay, Arthur pulled the chain to its limits and raised his fist, but an invisible force hit him full in the chest, sending him sprawling back, gasping for breath. He was slammed into the iron weight that held his chain and crumpled to the floor, barely able to breathe. The man was next to him instantly. Arthur tried to strike again, but his limbs would not move. The man's eyes were glowing gold and for a split second they looked like fire.

'And do you know what my favourite part was?' he whispered, as if nothing had interrupted their conversation, if it could be called that. 'My favourite part was when he looked at you and you made it clear by the expression on your face that you were happy to watch him die.' Arthur struck out, managing to dislodge the magical weight slightly, but then it crushed him further, lying on his chest like a pile of rubble; mixing with the pain that was already there. The traitor leaned closer, his mouth next to Arthur's ear. 'You should have seen his face. He wasn't stupid, Arthur. He knew. Oh, he definitely knew. And that's when he fought. Can you imagine,' he laughed, 'Merlin fighting against soldiers? You can imagine how it looked. How _he_ looked. They had to knock him around a bit when he started shouting. The failure on his face was breath taking as they put the sack over his head.'

From where he lay on the floor, Arthur felt each word like a darkness burrowing into him. He tried to forget what had been said. He tried to ignore the tone of mockery, but he couldn't. In his mind, he saw each terrible second of Merlin's last moments as his imagination took the details and transformed them into a nightmare from which Arthur couldn't escape.

He saw Merlin's face as he realised that he'd been tricked, because of course Merlin would realise. He knew Arthur too well. He saw his friend's face pale; saw the horror creeping into his eyes and then watched as he tried, as hard as he could, to escape the grips of the soldiers. But of course he couldn't. There was no doubt that Merlin was strong, but not in that way. Merlin's strength lay in his character, in his determination, in his loyalty and morality. In fact, every strength that Merlin possessed would have been raging against the situation that he had suddenly realised he was in.

Arthur heard the kicks and the punches of the guards as they tried to subdue Merlin's sudden aggression. They did it easily of course, but he could see Merlin fighting the entire time; heard him trying to call to the knights or Gaius or even Uther, only to be beaten into silence as his face was obscured by the sack.

Arthur saw it all unfolding in his mind; saw the way Merlin's body fell and jarred to a stop. Saw his limbs straining as he ran out of air. Could almost hear his desperate thoughts as those last few seconds trickled away. Arthur was in no doubt that Merlin's last thoughts had been over his Master's safety; the last ones that went through his mind before the desire to survive blocked out all other reasoning. He had died feeling like he'd failed Arthur; the Prince knew that full well.

As the traitor moved away from him, Arthur felt the tears slide silently down his face. They felt hot against his cheek. He rubbed them away frantically as the traitor walked back outside the circle of freedom that Arthur had, but they were still falling. He turned away. He could not let the man see what his words had done; he couldn't show that weakness to his captor. Several seconds passed and he filled his mind with battle strategy and training moves, until the tears ceased.

'Who are you?' he asked, not looking at the man. 'Tell me.' His voice was even, emotionless. Numb. He imagined that he was negotiating with a foreign ambassador. Give and take, gentle persuasion, small questions, small reactions. Nothing to alarm, nothing to show feelings or emotions. Just facts. It was all Arthur could cope with at that moment. The traitor seemed to like the change in his attitude. He answered quietly, matching Arthur's tone in an eerie duplicity.

'My real name is Sythe, but you have never known me as such.'

'And why are you doing this? Are you working with Morgana?' This time the man did let some amusement overshadow his words.

'The sorcerer half sister; that was a favourable turn of events…but no,' he continued, 'I am not working with her, nor does she have any knowledge of me. Not yet, at least. But I have been biding my time for years, learning who you are, what power you can command. Your sister's…revelation just enabled me to finally decide that the time to act was now.'

'And your reasons?' Arthur prompted.

'My reasons are the same as any other sorcerer's: to stop the blood shed of our kind. What better way to do that than by putting one of us on the throne?'

Arthur didn't know if he meant himself or Morgana, but either way, Arthur was finding it difficult to hold back the emotions that he had managed to momentarily suppress. Even the fact that he had discovered the man's –Sythe's- plan was not enough to press them back. He needed the man to leave; needed to be alone; needed to disappear and not think and not hurt.

Whether Sythe realised this or not, Arthur wasn't sure, but the light suddenly disappeared from the room and the man's footsteps headed away from him.

'You must excuse me,' he said quietly. Arthur could hear the edge in his voice; knew another verbal attack was heading his way. He tried to throw up barriers against it, but they crumpled instantly as he spoke. 'The King has ordered the body to be put in an unmarked grave. I need to go and make sure that neither you nor anyone else will ever know where it is.'

Arthur didn't even reply. The fight had gone from him. He had used all his energy fighting to free himself and save Merlin, but he had failed, his energy was expended and his heart felt dark, so very dark. The words buried themselves deep inside his mind. He had said no goodbyes to Merlin; had done nothing but order him around and snap at him the last time he had seen him. And now he wouldn't even know where his body lay. If Arthur ever did escape, he would not be able to go and tell his friend just how sorry he was.

He lowered himself to the floor and let the darkness cover and consume him.

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	11. Chapter 11

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Glad you liked the last chapter and thank you for reviewing! Back to Merlin and the gang now. Let me know what you think!

And by the way, I get the impression that this story is going to be long, so settle yourselves down for quite a few more weeks of updates!

Anyway, on we go!

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**Chapter 11**

'Merlin.'

Merlin turned over, fully awake. He had been expecting Lancelot's call as soon as he had heard Gwaine snoring gently. Merlin brushed himself down as he went to sit beside the knight who was keeping watch a few metres away, propped up against the thick trunk of an ancient tree. He lowered himself down beside his friend and they both sat in silence for several minutes, looking up at the moon which gave them a lopsided smile through the foliage.

'I'm sure about this,' Merlin began.

'I know you are, but if you're wrong, there's no way we'll be able to stop you,' Lancelot replied quietly.

'I'm not invincible. A sword, an arrow, a knife: anything will do enough damage to kill me. You just have to be quick.'

'That's of little comfort Merlin,' Lancelot said, fixing him with a tired smile. Merlin saw the worry in his eyes and nodded his agreement.

'I know, but it won't come to that, trust me. I'm not under any enchantment. You saw yourself that the counter curse didn't work.'

'You said that it had to be cast by the original magician.'

'I was guessing. It didn't say that in the book.' Merlin saw Lancelot scrape his boot along the ground, kicking at some fallen leaves. 'It will be alright.' Lancelot looked up at him and nodded.

'What's our plan then?' he asked, seemingly rallying from his doubts, at least for now.

'I'm not sure. Arthur must be in Camelot. The sorcerer would want him close by.'

'Surely someone would have seen something.'

'I don't know. He's a powerful sorcerer. The spell he's using -the one to mimic Arthur- takes a lot of skill. He could easily hide one person in the city, I'm sure.'

'Can you break the enchantment?'

'I don't know how to. That's one of the things that we'll have to put Gaius onto once we get back. If he can find a spell to reverse the effects then at least we'll have Uther on our side. We haven't got a chance of convincing him at the moment.'

'And what about us? What do we need to do?'

'We need to figure out who the sorcerer is. That will be the best starting point. If we know who we're dealing with, we can begin to guess at his next move.'

'Well, it must be someone who has a lot of access to Arthur. To be able to pull off the deception so effortlessly he must know Arthur well. He's probably been around for years.'

Merlin nodded, pleased that they were finding ways of moving forward with their information. All day, as they made their way back towards Camelot, Merlin had fought to ignore the thoughts about Arthur's plight that were filling his head. His friend's situation would only serve as a distraction and he couldn't afford even the slightest slip in concentration.

'And he's someone who knows the castle; I haven't noticed any uncertainty in him about where he should be,' Merlin added.

'Maybe a servant?'

'I don't know if a sorcerer of that strength could hide as a servant for so long.' Merlin heard the irony in his words as he said them and smiled sheepishly at Lancelot.

'I'm willing to bet he could,' the knight returned. 'Maybe it's a knight; they know Arthur well enough. If it is someone in the castle, then they must have left within the last few weeks or months to prepare for their impersonation.'

'That could be any number of people.'

'But it narrows it down. Can you think of anyone who's left in the past few months or so?'

Merlin thought back, but it was difficult. After Morgana's takeover, hundreds of people went missing; most were presumed dead, but many had not been accounted for. He shared a glance with Lancelot who seemed to realise the same thing. It could be anyone.

'We need more to go on,' Merlin sighed.

'Must be a fighter.' Both of them jumped as Gwaine's sleepy voice broke into their conversation. 'Look at you girls; frightened by the smallest of sounds.' He got up and joined them, putting his head back against the trunk and closing his eyes as soon as he did. 'If you're coming up with a plan and you want me to stick to it, I wouldn't mind being in on it.'

The ease with which he was talking convinced Merlin that Gwaine hadn't heard the initial part of their conversation. But he was right, if there was any chance he was going to do as they wanted, he would have to be involved in the planning; they would just have to leave out a few magical details of any strategy they came up with.

'What do you mean?' he asked. Gwaine seemed to have fallen asleep again; Merlin nudged him gently. 'Gwaine!' he hissed. The man sniffed and blinked at Merlin. 'Why must he be a fighter?'

'Because he still trained with the knights. You said he'd been impersonating Arthur for two weeks? Well, he didn't miss a single training session; in fact he put more on.'

'And he could fight?'

'Well enough,' Gwaine shrugged. 'He didn't take part as much as he normally does, but he knew what he was talking about.'

'Perhaps he feared his fighting style did would give him away,' Lancelot suggested.

'Alright,' Merlin nodded. 'So someone who worked in the castle, probably a soldier or knight, and someone who saw Arthur a lot.'

'And had access to the royal wing in order to kidnap Arthur.'

'Or else could sneak in,' Gwaine pointed out.

Merlin sighed again. There was no doubt that their suspects were now considerably narrowed down, but by no means did they have a definitive answer.

'So, what's the plan?' Gwaine asked. 'Storm in to Camelot, demand that the imposter tells us where Arthur is and hope he doesn't incinerate us with magical fire?'

'Maybe something a little more subtle,' Merlin murmured.

'That is subtle for us.'

'Merlin's right,' Lancelot interrupted. 'We need to get in undetected.'

'Well that's easy,' Gwaine shrugged.

'How?'

'Come on Merlin; you can get people in an out of that place without anyone knowing. I've seen you do it.'

'Getting in isn't the problem,' Merlin agreed. 'It's knowing what to do afterwards.'

'What about hiding with Gaius?' Lancelot suggested. Merlin shook his head.

'It's first place the imposter would look.'

'Then what shall we do?'

All three men fell silent for several minutes. Around them, the night was alive with the scratches and whispers of animals and the swish of the wind through branches. They were quite close to Camelot once again and so had tried to find a more obscure camp for the night. The imposter would definitely be expecting their return now that they knew the truth and he had no doubt set up several search parties that were currently patrolling the outlying lands. Merlin knew that he was subconsciously checking every sound that reached his ears, making sure that it didn't carry the hint of a threat or an attack. It made for an eerie contemplation, but soon Lancelot broke the silence.

'I have an idea,' he ventured carefully. 'It's dangerous and risky.'

'Well in that case, I'm in,' Gwaine grinned at them.

'What's your plan?' Merlin asked. Lancelot took a deep breath and began.

* * *

Merlin normally liked keeping watch; as much as he enjoyed his sleep, there was something about being awake at night in the forest that gave him such clarity of thought; such focus. But those two things -which he usually revelled in and made the most of- were now forcing him to address questions and issues that he had been trying hard to avoid.

Where was Arthur? That one was an infuriating question. Somewhere in Camelot wasn't good enough and yet he had nothing else to go on. He assumed that the sorcerer had been visiting Arthur regularly to take him food, and Merlin hadn't noticed any long periods of time when not-Arthur had gone missing. Surely that meant that Arthur was close to the castle, but where? During his many escapades over the years, Merlin had learnt plenty about the places in Camelot that no-one else had any knowledge of and that was one of the things that he was hoping to do as soon as he reached the city; check those places for traces of Arthur. But he was painfully aware that he didn't know all of Camelot's secrets. There were no doubt tunnels and rooms and hideouts that he would never find. Where was Arthur? Yes, that was definitely a question that he was desperate to know the answer to.

How was Arthur? That one made him feel more uncomfortable. The imposter's spell required Arthur to be alive, but it in no way required him to be healthy. From what Merlin had seen of the sorcerer, the man was unlikely to be making Arthur's stay comfortable. He had treated Merlin with an unwarranted malevolence. Yes, Merlin may have found out about his plan and discovered his true identity, but to toy with him as he had; to give him that last dreadful moment of clarity as he walked to the gallows –that was not a being who felt any compulsion towards compassion. Still, that malevolence had saved Merlin's life; he wasn't sure, however, that it would do the same for Arthur.

But the worst question of all, the one that was robbing him of all peace and focus, was the one that he directed angrily at himself. How had he not noticed? That was the question that was circling most loudly around his head. Gwaine was right; if anyone should have noticed that Arthur wasn't Arthur it was Merlin. If only he'd realised, then all of this could have been avoided. He could have played along with the imposter, followed him to find out where he was keeping Arthur. If only he hadn't challenged the imposter when he first found the chest full of potions; he should have been smart about it; should have bided his time. Why had he been so impulsive, so arrogant that he believed he could handle whatever the sorcerer threw at him? If not for him, everything could have been avoided.

He was supposed to be Arthur's protector. What had he done to protect him this time? Nothing. He had happily carried on in his duties, oblivious to the fact that the man he was serving was an enemy who was planning to take over Camelot. He should have known.

And of course, now that he understood and had had chance to think back over the last few weeks, he could see the signs. Subtle and small, but they had been there if he'd just put them together. The suddenness of the change in Arthur's attitude from withdrawn and unsure to confident and strong. Merlin had been pleased to see it; had even, to a certain extent, believed he'd had a hand in bringing Arthur out of his darkness. And then after that, the way Arthur treated him hadn't been quite right. Yes, Arthur had always given him endless chores and jobs, but something about how he'd dished them out of late hadn't sat right with Merlin. Usually, Arthur would give him his jobs with a sort of wry smile on his face; trying not to grin as Merlin's face grew stormier and stormier, but recently he hadn't done that. He had listed off chores without any undertones of playfulness; there had been little room for Merlin to complain in return and when he had, Arthur hadn't always responded with his usual sarcasm. Merlin had put it down to the stress that Arthur was under now that he was King in all but title, but in hindsight that did not seem to fit.

On top of that, Arthur had kept him so busy that Merlin had barely seen him some days. The busyness in itself wasn't so unusual, but the lack of Arthur visiting him to torment him or encourage him into a conversation in his chambers should have been a sign to Merlin that things weren't quite right.

He should have realised. He should have known. And yet he hadn't. He had allowed Arthur to be captured from right under his nose and hadn't even realised that it had happened. What sort of protector did that make him? How did it fit into his destiny?

The dark blue of dawn began to creep into the sky as Merlin continued in his guilt ridden thoughts. He had been meant to wake Gwaine for the last watch, but he knew he wouldn't get any sleep and, in all likelihood, it was Gwaine that was going to need his energy for the day. And so he let the sun cast its golden shadows across the sky before finally waking his two companions. They were awake and alert instantly, both wearing the same stern faces; nobility and determination written across their features.

'Ready?' Merlin asked them. They nodded wordlessly and, as the sun finally slipped into the sky, their camp was abandoned. There was no evidence that they had ever been there.

* * *

Slipping past the imposter's numerous patrols had been difficult, but a simple disguise had allowed them to travel more inconspicuously. It had required a minor detour to one of the outlying towns to steal -which Merlin liked to think of as borrowing- three sets of clothes. Once they had hidden their bright Camelot cloaks, Gwaine and Lancelot were able to pass as commoners. Their confident stride and straight posture gave them away a little, but Merlin had pointed it out to them and they had adjusted their gait accordingly.

Both of them had, understandably, refused to part with their swords, which meant that they were also required to 'borrow' two cloaks, but they helped to conceal the weapons and obscure the men's faces more convincingly.

With as much of a disguise in place as was possible, they made their way back to Camelot. They had left the horses at some stables in a second town, promising several coins to the surprised stable hand on their return for the creatures. If he realised that they were royal horses he made no comment, but Gwaine upped their price just to ensure that the man's silence would hold.

After that, they had stuck to quiet paths that ran towards the city, rather than the main road, but had avoided travelling through the forest and wilder landscapes fearing that it would arouse too much suspicion if they were seen. They heard several patrols, but were able to hide or avoid them, although it did slow them down.

Once they got to Camelot, however, they blended in well. Fortunately, their return coincided with Camelot's market day. People were making their way into the city in the hopes of making exchanges and profits. On realising this an hour or so before they were due to arrive in the city, Gwaine had 'borrowed' a cart as its owner slept on obliviously in the forest campsite he had set up. Merlin continued to tell himself that it was necessary to find Arthur, but made a note of what the owner looked like and which direction he was coming from in the hopes of one day paying him back.

With everything they could hope to acquire for their journey back into Camelot, the men set up the final part of their deception. They had already decided that Merlin's face was far too familiar. He wouldn't even get into the citadel before people spotted him and raised the alarm. Years of walking side by side with Arthur as the Prince made trips through the town, had made Merlin almost as recognisable as the Prince himself. The fact that Merlin endeared himself to everybody also didn't help matters. People remembered the faces of those who were kind to them and Merlin had an abundance of that trait inside him. Because of this, Merlin was bundled into the cart and buried under sacking which was then covered with the supplies that the owner of the cart had been intending to sell.

He hated it. The vulnerability he felt was terrible, and the fact that he could not see what was going on made everything seem all the more threatening. Lancelot and Gwaine, however, kept up a steady stream of explanations and conversations to ensure that he was as up to date on the situation as he could be when lying in a cart with the rest of the world obscured from view.

Gwaine was their second biggest problem. He had more than made himself known throughout the city during the time he had been there and generally not for the best reasons; but either way, people recognised him. So it was that he took on a more stooped walk to ensure that his face was kept low and out of sight. The job of steering and greeting, therefore, fell to Lancelot. It wasn't that he was unknown, not by a long shot, but there was something very unassuming and reserved in Lancelot that meant that while people could talk about his nobility and his brave exploits, they were hard pressed to pick him out in a crowd. He had never sought to be the centre of attention and, as such, people tended to let him pass them by. Merlin only hoped that that quality would be their saving grace now.

It was mid-morning by the time they made the journey into the city. They had purposely chosen that time to ensure that the crowds would be thicker and provide more protection, but Merlin was beginning to regret it aas he baked under the sacking in the strong sunshine. Lancelot whispered to him when they had arrived, but he felt the change in motion as the cart was pushed over the worn cobbles that lined the main streets.

Several times they stopped and Merlin could hear the slightly muffled tones of Gwaine or Lancelot exchanging conversation. Both of them changed their voices: Lancelot to a rougher, lower version of his speech, and Gwaine by changing his accent, although the result sounded even more suspicious to Merlin. It seemed to pass, however, and soon Merlin felt the ground become softer as they slipped into the side streets. There was some hurried movement of the cart and the sound of quick footsteps, before the supplies on top of Merlin were removed and the sacks were pulled back.

He blinked against the harsh light and shielded his eyes, but welcomed the cool rush of air which brushed away the moisture that had formed on his skin. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, by which time Gwaine and Lancelot had all but pulled him out of the cart and pushed him deeper into the alley in which they had hidden themselves. It wasn't the best hiding place in the world, but they would soon be moving on.

'How are we doing so far?' Merlin asked.

'Good,' Lancelot nodded. 'The soldiers are definitely on alert, but so far they've barely looked our way.'

'The only reason we had to stop a few times was because people wanted to trade,' Gwaine continued. 'Here…' He tossed an apple to Merlin which he had pulled from his pocket. 'Got a dozen for one of the baskets. Not bad.' He bit into a second one that he had stored in the cart. Merlin felt his mouth water at the food and shrugged off his guilt that they were selling the cart owner's goods. He needed strength to carry out the rescue and he had barely eaten since yesterday afternoon.

As he chewed, Merlin looked around at the familiar territory. He hadn't taken this route before, but if his guesses were correct –and generally they were- it would only take a few minutes to navigate the back alleys of this part of the town and then they would find themselves at their destination.

'We need to carry on,' he nodded at both of them. They moved aside and let him lead the way. Keeping his head down to avoid recognition from the slightly unsavoury characters lurking along their journey, Merlin pressed forward. Using his knowledge of the town, he made judgements on directions and distance, pausing only a few times when he was presented with two options. Lancelot and Gwaine remained quiet in a way that made Merlin nervous. The few times he glanced back at them, he noticed that they had dropped their more common postures and movements and had reverted back to what were clearly the gaits of two well trained knights of the realm. Merlin pointed it out to them and, with effort, they corrected their walks.

A few minutes later, they had moved out of the more 'interesting' areas of the town and found themselves in the back alleys of a safer and gentler area, which was unnervingly close to the castle walls. The change meant that they no longer had to question what it was that they were treading in as they navigated the narrow streets, but it did mean that there were more people using the shortcuts. Heads down, senses alert, they pressed on until eventually they spilled out onto a dark courtyard area that several houses backed on to. Across from them, the alley led back out onto the main streets, but they had no intention of moving there.

Without hesitating, Merlin made for a door that was three doors up on the right. It was locked and, had Gwaine not been there Merlin would have used magic and saved damaging it, but as it was, the knight took one look at Merlin studying the lock and then kicked the door in himself.

'Gwaine!' Lancelot hissed in annoyance. A yell of shock came from inside, making them all turn.

'What? How else were we going to get in?'

'How about knocking,' Lancelot told him forcefully as he pushed past the knight hastily and followed Merlin into the room.

Merlin, with the same sense of urgency, moved forward, wanting to reassure the owner of the voice, who had just yelled in fear, that everything was fine. He couldn't stop a smile as he caught sight of her terrified expression, but on seeing them, it quickly changed to one of immense relief. She rushed over to him and hugged him tightly.

'Merlin,' she breathed.

'Gwen,' he smiled, hugging her tightly back. 'Sorry about the door.'

'Yeah, sorry,' Gwaine added sheepishly. 'Though you'd be out.'

'No, no, it's fine,' she assured them, stepping back and looking at Merlin; her joy and relief at seeing him more than evident on her face. 'What are you all doing here?' she asked breathlessly.

'I'm really sorry, Gwen,' Merlin said to her, knowing that if Arthur were with them, he would not under any circumstances allow her to be drawn into the plan. Then again, if he was here, then there wouldn't be any need for a plan. Merlin mentally gave a pointed look to the Arthur in his imagination and then looked seriously at Gwen. 'We need your help.'

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	12. Chapter 12

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Here's the next chapter. Please let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 12**

Gwen was nodding her head even before Merlin had finished his sentence. What ensued was a detailed explanation of all that had happened. Her horror as Merlin told her about the imposter made him wish that he could have left her out of it and just told her when it was all over and they'd got Arthur back, but that wasn't an option. If Merlin's guesses were correct, then Gwen was the only one who would currently be above the imposter's suspicions. As soon as he had finished his explanation, he sought to discover whether that really was the case.

'I need you to think,' he began slowly. She looked at him; her eyes had had a sort of faraway look in them as she no doubt worried about Arthur's safety, but as soon as she realised that she could be of some use, her features fixed themselves into a mask of determination. She nodded. 'Over the past few weeks have you noticed anything in the way Arthur's behaved towards you that seemed different?'

She frowned and considered the question.

'No, not really. I've barely seen him and when I have, other people have been around.'

'But that's odd isn't it?' Merlin prompted. 'He always finds a way to come and see you on your own doesn't he?' Her frown only deepened, but she soon began to nod slowly.

'That's true, he does. I see him most days. I just thought he was busy. Now that Uther's ill, there's a lot that he has to take care of.'

'But when he did see you,' Merlin continued, 'how did he act? Like when you went to see him a couple of days ago and Lancelot was there? Or when you both went down to Gaius?'

'He did treat you differently,' Lancelot answered quietly. All eyes turned to look at him. Merlin saw the hesitancy in the man's words. Lancelot had never said anything, but Merlin knew that he still loved Gwen deeply; in fact, when the knight had voiced his plan and mentioned including Gwen, he had said it with the same reluctance and hesitation that Arthur would have shown.

'What do you mean?' Merlin asked.

'Always before, if Arthur was troubled, he sought support from Gwen.'

'I don't think that's true,' Gwen said, shaking her head forcefully.

'It is,' the knight continued, 'not in an obvious way; it might simply be looking at you for some sort of confirmation. Sometimes it's just by moving closer to you.' Merlin could see the effort it took for him to remain neutral, but he doubted the other two would spot it. 'He didn't do that when you arrived after I'd told him about Merlin's plan to be executed.'

She considered the words and then began to nod slowly.

'You're right, he didn't. And when we went down to see Gaius, he barely spoke to me. In fact he's almost been-'

'Indifferent?' Merlin asked hopefully.

'Yes,' she nodded.

'And what about since my execution?' Merlin pressed. 'Have you seen him since then? Arthur –the real Arthur- would have spoken to you about it.'

'He would have been pleased that you'd got away,' Gwen added.

'Exactly. And you'd have been the person he spoke to. You're the only one he'd let his guard down to.'

'He didn't come and see me,' she replied. 'I tried to go and see him, but when I went in…' she stopped, staring at the floor and then she looked up at Merlin with understanding. '…he barely noticed that I was there. I asked him how he was, but he said he didn't wish to be disturbed.'

'Didn't you realise that he couldn't be Arthur?' Merlin asked gently. 'If he was speaking to you like that?'

'I was a little upset, but why would I question it? Uther was sending out patrols to find you. Arthur's barely been out of his chambers; he wouldn't know what to do or how to clear your name. I thought he'd be struggling and I didn't want to make it worse. But,' she continued, closing her eyes and shaking her head, 'that doesn't matter. I don't understand why this is important? He's not really Arthur, so of course he would treat me differently.' Merlin saw her eyes go stony as she mentioned the imposter. She was angry, that much was obvious.

'It's of the utmost importance,' Merlin continued hurriedly. 'It means that the imposter doesn't know of your connection to Arthur.'

'I wouldn't be so sure. Everybody must know about her connection to Arthur,' Gwaine interrupted. 'She all but jumped into his arms when we returned from removing Morgana.' Gwen blushed deeply and dropped her eyes.

'I don't think the imposter was here then; he'd gone to prepare,' Merlin argued. 'And besides, the only people present were preoccupied with what had happened in the fight.'

'And their relationship only became known of recently,' Lancelot continued. 'Even so, I've heard very little in the castle.'

'I think some of the servants know, but it's only in the last few weeks and they haven't treated me any differently. And they're hardly going to mention anything to Arthur –the imposter.' Gwen confirmed. 'But I still don't understand why it's important.'

'Because if the imposter doesn't know about you –which is likely if he's only arrived in disguise recently- then you're not a suspect for helping us. You'll be able to move around the castle freely.'

'How will that help?'

All three men looked at each other and Merlin knew that it only served to infuriate Gwen.

'I want to help,' she insisted.

'We need you to follow him,' Gwaine explained.

'I can do that,' she nodded.

'We believe,' Lancelot continued, 'that he's keeping Arthur somewhere close by and that he will be feeding him everyday. But you must be careful,' he added.

'I will be; I'll be fine.' She stood up and grabbed her shawl from where it hung next to the door.

'Where are you going?' Merlin asked.

'You said I need to follow him.'

'I didn't mean right away!'

'If it helps to find Arthur more quickly then I'm going to start right away. Is there any reason to delay?' Merlin cast about his mind for an argument, but couldn't come up with one; it was his own anxiety that was causing him to wait. He shook his head, but got up to stand in front of her. He put a hand on both of her shoulders.

'Do not take any chances,' he said quietly. 'This man is dangerous. If he speaks to you, you must not let on that you know anything; he will be on complete alert as it is.'

'I know.'

'Just be careful. Arthur won't thank us for saving him if anything's happened to you.'

She nodded and then made to go out of the door.

'And Gwen,' he added. 'Thank you.' She smiled and then disappeared out of the front door and into the street.

* * *

Merlin soon discovered that being stuck with two knights who had nothing to do was just as bad as being with a bored Arthur. They were different in their responses of course. Lancelot paced nervously every few minutes and frequently turned to the door as if hoping Gwen would walk back in having changed her mind. His anxiety increased the tension in the room, filling Merlin with a dreadful expectation that at any moment something would go wrong. The urge to follow after Gwen and protect her became overwhelming to Merlin every time he looked at Lancelot and so in the end he diverted his attention by reviewing everything he knew about the imposter in the hope that something new would present itself.

Gwaine on the other hand had decided to feign relative calm in the face of their current situation, but Merlin could tell it was a front. The knight frequently got up and fiddled with things around the room, and then decided to join in Merlin's silent musings about the imposter much more loudly and with several more expletives concerning the nerve of a man who would try and impersonate Arthur. In a way, Merlin was touched by the man's evident fondness for the Prince, which he very rarely demonstrated. It didn't, however, help Merlin to take his mind off the severity of the situation that they had just sent Gwen into.

By mid-day, Gwen had still not returned. Merlin reasoned that it was probably because she was fulfilling her castle duties; leaving early would only have seemed more suspicious. And so he took it upon himself to make some lunch for the three of them; Gwen wouldn't mind if they ate some of her food. In a way, it felt good to be doing something as familiar as getting food ready for people; he accepted the distraction willingly.

Despite their nerves, all three of them managed to eat plenty of food. Years of moving from place to place and living out in the wild when they were out on quests with Arthur had taught them all to take food when it was given to ensure that they were at their fighting best. The meal, however, did little to pass the time and they were soon forced back into their brooding nervousness.

A few hours later, however, all of them jumped to alertness at the sound of shouting and commotion from down the street. They paused, listening carefully and then Merlin felt his heart fall.

'They're searching.' Lancelot whispered.

'Then we'd best hide,' Gwaine replied, quickly getting up from where he sat. Without a word, the men straightened the room, putting the plates away in the cupboard and setting all the chairs back in place to ensure that the room looked like it had been empty for hours and then made their way into the back. There was little they could do in the way of hiding. A screen was all that separated them from the main room, but it was the best they could do. Merlin ensured that he was at the front and could see the room with just a small movement of the material that made up the screen. If the worst came to the worst, he could try a spell to distract their attention. Lancelot, seemingly picking up on the plan, ensured that Gwaine was at the back.

Seconds later, banging on the door made Merlin jump. He chided himself at being so on edge, but he couldn't help it. They had known coming to Gwen's house meant being dangerously close to the castle, but had reasoned that the searches here would have been carried out very early on. Of course, Uther was nothing if not persistent and the chances were that the imposter had found some way of aiding the search without compromising his deception.

When no reply was received from inside Gwen's house, Merlin hoped the soldiers would move on, but seconds later, the door slammed open and the sound of four or five pairs of heavy boots thudded on the floor. Merlin held his breath as he heard them moving. He reviewed several spells in his head and felt Lancelot and Gwaine tensing for a fight behind him. He knew, though, that a clash of swords would do nothing but draw more attention to them. No; magic would have to be their course of action if the soldiers decided to check more thoroughly.

It seemed, for a moment, that the soldiers had decided that the empty room was enough evidence to justify cutting short their search, but then a pair of footsteps broke away from the group and headed towards them. Merlin closed his eyes in defeat for a moment, but then readied himself. He could perhaps try to convince the man that there was nothing their, but then Gwaine would know something had happened. He could maybe move an item onto the floor in the main room, but that would draw the attention of the others. By the time the screen was drawn back, Merlin had decided that maybe Gwaine would have to find out about him, but as he looked up, he felt relief flood through him.

Leon stood in front of them, his eyes going wide in shock before he quickly looked back to check no-one was following. Merlin motioned at him to be quiet; he nodded slowly.

'What's going on?' he asked in a whisper that Merlin could only just make out.

'There's no time,' he replied. 'But we're helping Arthur.'

'I'll tell him you're here.'

'No!' Merlin hissed, louder than he had intended to. Gwaine and Lancelot most have worn similar expressions of horror at the idea of Arthur finding out because Leon glanced at them in surprise.

'Anything there, Sir?' a voice came from behind them.

'No, all clear,' Leon replied hurriedly. 'Move onto the next house.'

'Whatever you do, don't tell Arthur. He can't know; it's a matter of life or death.'

'What about the enchantment you're under?' he asked, but they could all hear a soldier moving back to see where their leader had got to.

'I'm not. Trust us Leon; we're helping Arthur.'

The knight glanced at all three of them quickly and the sincerity and urgency on their faces must have convinced him. He nodded and then turned around and was gone. For several minutes after the door shut, they remained completely still and then all three of them let out a breath of relief as they heard the soldiers moving further down the street.

'Leon will keep them away,' Lancelot assured them as they moved back into the main area. 'We won't be bothered again.'

'He might say something,' Gwaine said. 'You know what Leon's like, patriotic to the end.'

'No, he understood. He believes it's for Arthur's own good.'

Merlin nodded his agreement; he had known Leon for long enough now to have complete faith that everything the man did was to protect his King; equally, Leon knew that the same philosophy was shared by Merlin.'

The sound of the door being slammed open made them all jump. Merlin felt his heart race as he turned to see who the intruder was; there would be no escaping this time, but when he looked it was to see Gwen's anxious face. She shut the door behind her, closing her eyes in relief.

'What's wrong?' Lancelot asked urgently, his hand already on the hilt of his sword.

'Nothing, I just heard that they were searching this area and wanted to warn you.'

'It's alright, Leon helped us,' Merlin assured her, moving to take her shawl off her and hang it up. She nodded her thanks and then sat down at the table. The three of them followed her expectantly. She took a while to catch her breath and then her face turned serious.

'I followed him all day,' she started. 'And you're right; there's something about him…' she shook her head. 'He seems angry; the way he interacted with people; his expressions.'

'Exactly how closely did you follow him?' Merlin asked accusingly. She waved her hand dismissively.

'He didn't see me. But that's not the point. When I followed him this afternoon, he disappeared for about half an hour.'

Merlin seized on the information instantly. A thousand questions passed through his mind, but he waited for Gwen to continue. 'He went down to the training grounds and then through towards the armoury. I couldn't follow him that closely because it was out in the open, but once I got to the armoury, he was nowhere to be seen. I searched up and down the corridors and asked the servants and some of them had seen him, but couldn't tell me where he'd gone.' She became more and more breathless as she spoke. 'I waited there and eventually he came back down one of the corridors, a side one that leads to the servant quarters,' she shrugged.

'You said it was near the armoury?' Merlin asked, the fact had leapt out at him straight away and he was trying to place it in the information that he had already pieced together.

'What does the armoury matter?' Gwaine asked. 'We already know he likes weapons.'

'No, there's something about the armoury.'

'He was there the other day!' Gwen suddenly interjected. 'Remember,' she carried on, turning to Merlin. 'I said I went to find him after we visited Gaius and I couldn't find him. People told me he'd been heading towards the armoury.'

'So Arthur's being held somewhere near the armoury?' Lancelot asked.

'He must be, but I don't know of any secret passages in that area.'

'Well you don't know every secret passage,' Gwaine pointed out.

'It's too risky for any of us to go and search; there are too many servants around. We need to see if we can get hold of any documents that might give information on past constructions in the castle,' Lancelot said, a determination coming into his eyes now that they had a lead, but Merlin said nothing. The armoury was still ringing around his head. Something was pulling at the corners of his mind, like he was missing something.

'Merlin?' Gwaine asked.

'I can't…' he shook his head. 'There's something about it…It's like a dream I can't remem…' he tailed off; things sliding into place slowly but surely. 'The armoury; that was in the dream I had while I was in the dungeons; the one the sorcerer put in my mind.'

'So?' Gwaine asked.

'The armoury is turning up everywhere: in my dream; wherever the sorcerer's hidden Arthur and you said yourself that the imposter made you train even more.'

'So there's a connection between the sorcerer and the armoury?' Lancelot asked. 'Someone who used to be involved with it?'

'Not just involved,' Merlin said, his voice getting louder; he looked at them in shock. 'Theo. Theo was in charge of the armoury and training grounds; he was even in my dream.'

'But he was just a servant,' Gwen said in confusion. 'He was…nice, polite. He was in charge of the armoury for years.'

'I know, long enough to know the castle well, to know Arthur and me well.'

'And he just left a few months ago,' Lancelot added. 'He never came back after Morgana tried to take over.'

'He's the sorcerer?' asked Gwen. 'But everybody knew him; he was a hard worker; friendly to everyone.'

'He can play a part, that's all. It must be him. That makes sense.'

'A sorcerer working in the castle for so long?' she asked in shock. 'How could that happen?'

'I've seen stranger things,' Merlin told her. Once again he found himself sinking into recriminations. A sorcerer who had been here even longer than him? It was unforgivable that he had missed it. Why hadn't he noticed all of these things that would have saved Arthur? He was stopped in his self accusations by a gentle hand on his arm. He looked up and met Gwen's sympathetic eyes.

'He fooled everybody. All we can do now is find a way of stopping him.'

'We know plenty now that we didn't know before,' Gwaine pointed out. 'It seems our plan might actually be working.'

Merlin nodded his agreement.

'So then,' the knight continued, 'what's next?'

* * *

For once, Arthur didn't feel relief when the lights of his prison flared into being. All he wanted was darkness and nothingness. He was beginning to loose hope and that was something that didn't happen to him very often; when it did, he was hard pressed to pull himself out of it. In fact, usually the only person who could pull him out of it was…

No; he was trying to block those memories. He couldn't survive with them, not at the moment. All he could do for now was count the seconds passing by and let the utter blackness of his environment erase everything else from his mind.

With the lights flaring on, however, that became impossible, and he was forced back into a world of colour and shapes and life - his life, which had changed so drastically. But no, he couldn't start thinking about that either. Life was a difficult issue, another thing that he didn't want to remember. So instead, he focussed on what was around him, a strange place that, until a few weeks ago, had been unknown to him. He looked at the walls, which had once again been illuminated. He had not studied them properly throughout his captivity and now he wanted them to consume his entire focus.

Casting his eyes up, he took in the enormous structures. Huge pillars that were embedded into the walls of the cavern –as if the other halves had melted the rock- towered up to the ceiling, seemingly carved out of the rock. They were decorated with twisting patterns that interlocked and merged, creating a myriad of seemingly ever shifting links. The black stone seemed to shine in the light like it had been polished, and the gleam of the rock only increased as the light flickered onto the ceiling, which was covered in fantastical images of mythical creatures and shimmering ribbons that Arthur guessed were meant to represent magical enchantments. Strange and unfamiliar glyphs were arranged in various shapes, sometimes only one or two, sometimes thousands that wove intricately in and out of one another. Arthur felt that he could look at the ceiling for hours and still find new things that he hadn't seen before.

But all too soon, his distraction was taken away from him as Sythe stepped forward and dimmed the flames until the incredible structures in the rock had been sucked back into the darkness.

'How are you Arthur?' he asked. He was dressed in Arthur's battle wear, which suggested he had been organising something with the soldiers and the knights, or else had been training; that perhaps would be the most likely option. Arthur knew that all he wanted to do at the moment –besides forget- was attack something or someone; to fight his way into exhaustion.

'What do you want?' he asked, his voice croaking with the raw emotion that was still flowing through him, despite his attempts to forget.

'Some more information. It's of a more personal matter this time though. But I thought I'd give you the opportunity to tell me without a vision,' he explained, his tone pleasant. Arthur shuddered. Whatever he was looking for, Arthur knew he was not going to volunteer the information. 'Guinevere,' the man continued.

Arthur felt a deep chill engulf him and he snapped his head up at the man, his eyes burning with rage. Suddenly his body was filled with emotion again, and after the void that he'd created throughout the day, the effect was overpowering. Arthur felt his body moving independent of thought and then he stood completely still, teetering on the edge of loosing himself.

'Well you've already told me more than I'd hoped for,' he smiled. Arthur said nothing. If he spoke, he knew that his words would betray the depth of his feelings - if his actions hadn't already done so. 'I knew of her when I was here. Sweet, good, but I'd never thought of her as having any aspirations above her station. I suppose you did go and rescue her that time, but I assumed it was at Morgana's request. I didn't believe her to be connected to you. And yet, she's followed me nearly everywhere today. Very stealthy, but not quite stealthy enough. Tell me: does she love you?'

Arthur said nothing, his control all but gone. He was clinging to it on the smallest of beliefs that loosing it would be worse for Gwen.

'Or even better,' Sythe continued, 'do you love her?' He waited for several seconds, eyeing Arthur expectantly. 'Nothing to volunteer? Very well…' he held out his hand and began to speak. Instantly, Arthur allowed all the emotions that he'd been holding back to enter into his mind. There was no way that he could believe a false reality if he allowed the full extent of his pain and guilt and anger and grief to flow into him. He staggered under the force of them as Sythe finished his spell.

_Arthur looked around his chambers; it was nice to see that, for once, Merlin had done his job properly; the room was clean. He moved over to his table, checking the list that his manservant had left there with his jobs for the day, but was interrupted at the gentle knock on the door. He smiled; he knew who that was._

_ 'Come in,' he called and was met by Gwen's face; a shy smile on it, making her look even more beautiful. 'This is a most welcome surprise.' He walked over to her and was surprised when she put her arms around him and kissed him passionately and urgently. He lost himself in the moment instantly; returning the kiss with as much fervour. When she eventually moved back, breathless and flushed, Arthur grinned, feeling like a teenage boy. 'Not that I'm complaining,' he laughed, 'but what was that for?'_

_ 'To show you how much I love you,' she smiled._

_ 'I love you too,' he replied, kissing her again._

The scene was encompassed with gold light and Arthur found himself screaming his denial at Sythe as he realised that, once again, his mind had betrayed him. All the emotions that he had allowed back in were gnawing away at him, but now they were coupled with the terrible guilt and fear of what he had just given away about Guinevere.

'If you dare touch her!' he said through gritted teeth, standing up and staggering towards the man. Sythe just laughed at his attempts and then sent him flying back with a few words. 'I will kill you!' he shouted as he caught his breath.

'No you won't. You're trapped here and I'm up there. I wonder how much Guinevere would be willing to do to prove her love to you,' he mused, turning on his heal. Arthur felt rage burn through him and he jumped to his feet, ripping through the skin on his waist as he pulled against the chain.

'If you hurt her, I will kill you!' he screamed. 'I'll kill you!'

But Sythe had already disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

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	13. Chapter 13

**Hidden Motives**

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the reviews as always. A few notes about this chapter. Firstly, I haven't researched the legends and origins of Camelot, so if anything I've put in here is completely ridiculous then I apologise in advance. I'll have to class it as AU. Secondly, I promise that we are getting back into the action very soon; this is really the last set up chapter for the next big section of the story. Just wanted to reassure you that I'm not wandering aimlessly through the story.

Anyway, on we go. Please let me know what you think.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

'Here you go,' Gwen said as she came through her door, completely out of breath. She was carrying a huge basket of what appeared to be laundry, but as it was put down on the table with a resounding thud, it was evident that the basket contained something other than pressed sheets from the castle.

Gwaine walked over to it and pulled out the helmets, chainmail and uniform of the palace guards.

'And you're sure nobody saw you?' Merlin asked her.

'I'm sure; the laundry and polishing rooms are empty at this time of day. No-one saw anything.'

'And you've been and spoken to Gaius?' he asked.

'I tried. He wasn't there.'

'Of course,' Merlin muttered; he should have realised. 'It's his morning rounds.'

'I've left a note telling him to come to the archives as soon as he can. And I explained what I could in the note.'

'We could always wait for him,' Lancelot suggested. 'It will look less suspicious to Geoffrey if Gaius is with her.'

'He won't suspect me,' Gwen assured him. 'I've known him since I was a little girl.'

'I don't want to wait any longer,' Merlin agreed.

'Me neither,' Gwaine added, already having dressed himself in his disguise while they were talking. Merlin shook his head and smiled. The knight had been climbing the walls with boredom since yesterday. Sitting and waiting wasn't his forte.

Quickly, Lancelot and Merlin also got changed into their borrowed clothes. Merlin hated wearing chainmail. He always had done. It was one of the reasons why –despite Arthur frequently telling him to do so- Merlin rarely chose to don it. It was heavy and uncomfortable and it hung off him in a slightly ridiculous way; even now, as he put his disguise on, it was obvious that he completely lacked the stockiness of a knight.

'Why don't you try wearing your own clothes underneath?' Gwen suggested hesitantly.

'You really don't look the part,' Gwaine agreed, laughing to himself and giving Merlin a playful punch on the arm.

'That's because I'm not the part,' he sighed as he took all the items off again and disappeared back behind the screen. 'If there was any other way of getting into the castle I'd take it.'

At last they were all ready. Gwen casually stepped outside of her front door and looked up and down the street before nodding. Assured that they would not be seen leaving Gwen's house, the three of them made their way out and quickly sorted themselves into a line. They had practiced the marching technique for at least an hour last night and then again this morning, to ensure that they would look convincing as palace guards.

It was worryingly easy to get into the palace through the soldiers' entrance and Merlin made a mental note to mention the security discrepancies to Arthur when they found him. No-one questioned them as they walked confidently forward and no-one challenged them as to where they were going, even when they took the route down to the archives which, generally, soldiers didn't patrol.

Once there, Lancelot and Gwaine guarded either end of the corridor, while Merlin quickly got rid of his chainmail; it would be far too noisy once he was in there and the last thing they needed was Geoffrey of Monmouth spotting a wanted criminal riffling through Camelot's secret documents.

Just as Merlin had finished hiding the items behind a bronze statue, Guinevere rounded the corner. She looked nervous and kept on glancing up and down the corridors as if expecting a pursuer.

'You need to look more natural,' Merlin whispered to her.

'I'm trying, but this doesn't feel natural. Lying and sneaking around and then searching for Camelot's secrets.' Merlin nodded in sympathy, although he couldn't help but realise that the whole situation felt completely natural to him.

'Well never mind. We've got to go in now.'

She nodded and walked over to the entrance of the archives. It was a simple wooden door, but Merlin knew full well, the maze of arched passageways and bookshelves that it concealed. It would be difficult to find what they needed to in the time they had. Which was why he needed Gaius to hurry up and distract Gwen; with his magic, he could search so much more quickly.

Ahead, Gwen pushed open the door and walked in. Merlin pressed himself against it, keeping the door open, and waited. He could just make out Geoffrey sitting at his desk, surrounded by parchments which he seemed to be putting into an order of some sort, but from the looks of it he hadn't got very far.

'Sir,' he heard Gwen's voice politely sound down the hall.

'Ah, Guinevere. I don't see you here very often,' the man replied; an evident affection in his voice.

'No, I don't remember the last time I was here, but I'm helping Gaius.'

'How is Gaius, I meant to go and see him; he's had a difficult few days, what with that boy of his…' he coughed.

'He's coping,' Gwen nodded. 'It hit him very hard.' Merlin felt guilt well up inside him as he realised that he hadn't, aside from his part in their plan, given Gaius a thought since his escape from the gallows yesterday. How was his friend and mentor doing? He would have to reassure him once he arrived at the archives. 'But that's why I'm here; trying to take the load off a little.'

'That's very good of you.'

'He wants to find a few books on rare herbs; he's misplaced some of his own. Could you show me the section?'

'Of course, it would be my pleasure.' Merlin heard the scrape of the chair and pressed himself back a little further, but there was no need to worry; Geoffrey never looked back.

'Gaius will be along shortly,' Gwen was saying, her voice getting fainter, 'I just wanted to get a head start.'

They soon disappeared out of view and Merlin took his chance. He rushed over to the desk and searched for the log book that contained a detailed map of the different sections of the archives. He scanned the list and tapped the page in victory as he spotted the section he was looking for: maps and details of the castle's buildings and architecture. There were so many things in the archives that Merlin was hoping to find a clue as to where Theo might possibly be keeping Arthur. He wasn't under any illusions: the archives might provide them with no answers, but Merlin wanted to try that avenue first. If that failed, then running headlong into the situation completely blind would be their only option, but Merlin was only going to use that as a last resort.

The sound of Geoffrey coming back, calling to Gwen to let her know she could take as long as she liked, sent Merlin diving into one of the arched passageways for cover. He didn't wait to see the man return to his post and instead weaved his way to where he knew Gwen would be. He had looked for books for Gaius enough times to know exactly where Geoffrey had directed her.

He passed hundreds of bookshelves, loaded with parchments and old bound volumes that looked older than the castle itself. Dust clogged the air and made the light coming in from the small high windows duller than it should have been. He soon reached the passage way and saw Gwen waiting anxiously for him.

'How was that?' she asked.

'Great. You were great Gwen.'

'Do you know where we need to go?'

'Yes, it's in the west wing, towards the back, but it might be best if you waited here for Gaius.'

'I can help you,' she argued.

'He won't know where to go when he gets here. You need to direct him.'

'Very well, I-' but she stopped at sounds from some distance away, roughly in the direction that Geoffrey was. 'He's coming back,' she hissed. 'Hide!'

Merlin didn't need telling twice. He slipped back the way he had come into the adjacent passageway. A broken panel on the back of the bookcase meant that he could just about make out Gwen in the next aisle, hurriedly picking up books and flicking through them, trying to look natural. But Merlin saw her jump as the footsteps reached her passage and stopped.

'Arthur?' she asked in surprise, only just managing to keep the fear out of her voice. Merlin's eyes went wide at the implications of Theo being here. What did that mean for Gwen? Had he discovered that she was helping them? Had he found out that Merlin and the knights were back in Camelot? How could he have known? 'I mean…Sire,' she corrected. 'Sorry. It was just a shock to see you.'

'There's no need to apologise Guinevere. I wish you didn't have to call me Sire.' The way he said it, the gentleness in his voice, the affection would -had it been coming from the real Arthur- have touched Merlin, but its flawlessness only served to increase the sense of danger. They had been sure that the imposter didn't know of Arthur's relationship with Gwen. Unless, of course, he had found out.

'Did you wish me to do some jobs, Sire?' Gwen continued. Theo laughed and Merlin heard him step forward. Through the gap in the panel he saw Gwen fight to keep herself from moving away.

'Why are you acting so strangely?' he asked. 'We have a rare opportunity to be together at the moment.'

'Forgive me…Arthur,' she stuttered, 'I just haven't seen much of you recently. I thought maybe…'

'I would never forget you. I love you and I'm sorry for my behaviour of late.'

'You don't have to apologise,' she said shaking her head. 'I'm sorry, but Gaius is expecting me and I must get these books to him.'

'Geoffrey informed me that he was coming to meet you here,' Theo said, his voice silky as he closed the gap between Gwen and himself. Merlin felt his whole being bristle. What was the sorcerer doing? What was his plan? He didn't seem to suspect that Gwen knew his true identity. Or did he? Was this another one of his acts meant to draw her in?

'Well, I've found the book now, so there is no reason for him to come down.'

'Then let us make the most of the time we have,' Theo continued and to his horror, Merlin saw the imposter lean in to kiss Gwen. The panic on her face was evident. Merlin knelt, peering through the gap, not knowing what to do. If he revealed himself now then all would be lost, but how far would Theo push Gwen? It was evident now that knew of her relationship with Arthur.

The sound of more footsteps gave Gwen an excuse to pull away and peer down the passage.

'Someone's coming,' she whispered.

'What does it matter? I'm the Prince.'

But Gwen shook her head and smiled at him.

'Hello?' she called; Merlin could see the strain on her face as she turned away from Theo. 'Gaius,' she smiled. Merlin tried to catch a glimpse of his mentor's face, but the gap didn't give a wide enough angle.

'Gwen. I got your message.'

'Yes, I just wanted to help you find those books you've been looking for.' Merlin could see the meaningful expression that she was sending Gaius' way.

'Ah yes,' he replied after a pause. 'That's very good of you Gwen.'

'Well, she believes she's found the book, so let me escort you both out,' Theo said, moving past Gwen. Merlin saw her shake her head forcefully in Gaius' direction.

'Let me see.' Now he did move into Merlin's eye line. He looked well, all things considered. There was still a tiredness in him that Merlin hadn't seen before; it was enough to make Merlin realise that Gaius was an old man who deserved some rest in his winter years, not the constant calamity that Camelot and Merlin subjected him to.

'No, this book isn't the only one I need. It may take a while to find the others; they're very rare. The help would be appreciated,' he added, looking at Gwen.

'Of course.'

'Then I will leave you to it,' Theo nodded, his voice friendly. 'But Guinevere, please come and see me this evening. I wish to talk to you.'

'Of course, Sire…Arthur,' she corrected with a gentle smile that hid all her fear.

For the next minute or so, Gaius and Gwen kept up the pretence of looking for books on plants and Merlin stayed hidden, until at last they both fell silent.

'Gwen, what is it?' Merlin heard Gaius say and took that as his cue to reveal himself. On rounding the corner he was met with the astonished look on his mentor's face and the terrible sadness on Gwen's. He wasn't sure who to go to first, but Gwen made it easy.

'Look who turned up,' she whispered with a sad smile, giving Gaius a gentle push in the right direction.

'Hello Gaius,' he shrugged and was promptly enveloped in a hug.

'You do seem to change your mind at the last possible moment,' Gaius told him, his tone scolding.

'Yeah, sorry about that. My execution suddenly seemed like the wrong idea.'

'Well, I'm glad.'

The sound of Gwen sighing heavily drew Merlin's attention and he moved over to her quickly and hugged her tightly to himself.

'Are you alright?'

She nodded and took a few shaky breaths.

'I don't know what he wants. Why was he here?'

'I don't know, but I think it's safe to say he knows about you and Arthur. You mustn't go and see him tonight.'

'What will be my excuse?'

'You won't need one. You need to hide. Gwaine can take you somewhere safe.'

'But I want to help,' she insisted; wiping away the last few tears that were on her cheeks as if to prove to Merlin that she was strong enough. Merlin wasn't in any doubt of that; he knew of Gwen's strength of character; he knew that it was one of the reasons Arthur loved her so completely and utterly.

'You have been of more help than I can say, but now it's time for you to leave it to us. Arthur would want you safe.'

That, more than anything, seemed to convince her.

'What is going on?' Gaius interrupted, looking bemusedly between the two of them. 'Since when does Gwen avoid Arthur and since when do you hide from him,' he added, pointing to where Merlin had been crouched a few minutes before, '…besides because you've annoyed him?'

'This goes a little beyond annoyance,' Merlin told him soberly. 'There's a few things you need to know.'

* * *

To say that Gaius was surprised when he heard Merlin's explanation of the situation would be an understatement. The man had seen enough things in Camelot over the last few years to be open minded about plots and plans, but in this instance, he seemed to find it hard to set aside his disbelief. Theo was a key factor in his confusion; he struggled to see how such an unassuming quiet man could have been so subversive and malevolent underneath. Soon, however, when the initial shock was over, he began to go through the names of possible sorcerers who could have survived the purge and possessed the skills that were required to pull off such a complex plan.

Key in his suspicions was a sorcerer named Sythe who had worked in Camelot and been in charge of warfare and training well over a century ago. His chief attacks had been rooted in the art of disguises and drama to mislead and confuse enemies. He had become incredibly adept at it and, with his impressive powers and slightly unpredictable behaviour, those who did not have magic decided that he was more of a threat than the other sorcerers. It was them who sought to kill him. Of course, he did not take kindly to that. Hundreds died before the plan was abandoned.' The information made Merlin even more wary of what the man could do. Many sorcerers had lived back then and had been mostly accepted by non-magic users. For them to rise up against Sythe, they must have been truly fearful of what he could do.

'He enjoyed playing games, becoming his disguises. He loved to manipulate people,' Gauis said gravely.

'Which is exactly what he's done,' Merlin said, running a hand through his hair. 'What happened to him?'

'His attack on the non-magical population caused outrage among some of the other sorcerers who wanted to live in peace,' Gaius explained. 'They turned against him, but no-one knows what happened. Neither Sythe, nor the other sorcerers were ever seen again.'

'Until now,' Gwen whispered.

'Until now,' he nodded.

'What does he want?' Merlin pressed.

'Revenge, power,' Gaius said slowly. 'He no doubt lost friends and family in the purge and as much as he loved to play a part, he preferred to see other people heedlessly playing the parts that he had chosen for them; doing as he wanted.'

'What better way to do that than take over Camelot?'

'Exactly.'

'But how can we defeat him?' Gwen asked. 'If he's that powerful, what can be done?'

'I do not know,' Gaius said quietly. Merlin hoped that he was feigning ignorance because Gwen was there, but one look at the man's face told him that Gaius genuinely didn't know how to defeat Theo…Sythe…whoever he was. That did nothing to lighten Merlin's mood.

'We must find Arthur, first,' he said quickly, deciding that ignoring the futility of their situation was the best course of action for now. 'Will you help us search for information?'

'Of course,' Gaius nodded.

The search was long. Gaius frequently went and assured Geoffrey that all was well, but that they had decided to do further research while they were here. The archivist showed no suspicion or surprise, but then he and Gaius had been friends for years.

The architectural records were stored in a part of the archives that were rarely visited. The parchments and books were all but disintegrating and they had to handle them carefully. Gaius managed to keep Gwen occupied in a slightly different part of the archive for a few minutes every now and then, giving Merlin a chance to use magic to scan through more records, but he wasn't sure what he was looking for.

If he found anything that he thought would be useful, he showed Gaius, but with every shake of his mentor's head, Merlin grew more and more disheartened. It was several hours later that he heard Gwen give a little shout. He turned to her, at first worried that someone was coming, but she was pointing excitedly at a shelf high up on the bookcase that she was searching. She was stood on a stool and, from what Merlin could see, was attempting to tidy the shelf. When he asked her if that was the case she blushed and shrugged, but then told him to pull up a second stool. He did so and could see instantly what had drawn her attention.

Behind the age-old parchments that Gwen was currently moving out of the way, there was a wooden panel made of oak wood built into the wall. Merlin felt around the edges and forced his finger nails into the cracks, slowly working the cover out of its hole.

'What have you found?' Gaius asked.

'There's some sort of hidden panel,' Merlin replied as the cover came away in his hands. He passed it to Gwen and then cautiously reached his hand into the hole. It went a long way into the wall and Merlin had to stand on tiptoe to reach to the very back, but when he did his fingers enclosed around a leather-bound folder. He pulled it out and handed it to Gaius as both he and Gwen got down from the stools.

They crowded around the ancient leather case as Gaius opened it. On it were some of the most extravagant plans that Merlin had ever seen. He carefully picked up the various sheets and studied them with an increasing sense of awe.

'What are these?' he breathed, but Gaius didn't answer; Merlin looked at him and saw an expression of shock and deep reverence etched into his features. 'Gaius?' he asked.

'I have never seen this with my own eyes.'

'What is it?' Gwen asked. 'It's so beautiful.'

'The city of the old religion,' he said slowly, a reverence in his voice.

'The one on the Isle of the Blessed?' Merlin prompted.

'No. That was the second city. The first…the first was a structure unlike anything ever seen. It has been lost in myth and legend. Nobody has ever seen a record of what it looked like, only a few tales remain.'

'So these plans…?'

'The plans are unique in the land.' The faraway look in his eye suddenly cleared and he looked at Merlin. 'The city of the Ancient Religion – Veneficus was its name- was the centre of all magical power in the times before the lands were ruled by kings. It was carved out of the earth itself.'

'Where was it?'

Gaius paused before answering and then looked at them both in turn. 'Here,' he whispered. 'Camelot is said to be built on its ruins. There was a war between the powers of magic. The city fell and Camelot was built by those who won –sorcerers, but ones who wished for peace. By building a new city, using no magic at all, they wished to put to rest the terrible history of Veneficus.'

'Why doesn't everyone know this?' Gwen asked. 'How could this be forgotten?'

'Because everything related to it was destroyed by the sorcerers seeking to protect it. I only know because I spent time with the druids.'

'Does Uther…?'

'No, I have never told him, but the cave where the great dragon was held captive was once the main hall of Veneficus, or so legend goes.'

Merlin took in the information with the same air of disbelief that Gaius had displayed earlier, but it soon dissipated, leaving a deep sense of the enormity of their discovery.

'If Camelot is built on top of the ruins, then is it possible that Sythe found a way into it from the castle? A passage maybe; one left by one of the builders?'

'It is possible. Sythe no doubt knew of the legends of the city.'

'Then if this is the main hall, where the dragon was kept,' Merlin said, pointing to the designs, 'then the section of the city underneath the armoury would be…' he looked through the parchments, '…the courtroom,' he finished, his finger hovering over the room.

'We still have to find the passage,' Gwen pointed out.

'No we don't. Look…' he said, '…the courtroom was a level below the main hall and to the east of it.'

'You're not suggesting…' Gaius said incredulously.

'Yes, I am,' Merlin nodded. 'We can go through the dragon cave and find the courtroom from there. It must be where Sythe is keeping Arthur. And if not, we'll at least be on the right track. We can search.'

'And how do you propose getting down to the next level?' Gaius asked him; the familiar tone of irritated despair creeping into his voice.

'Rope,' Merlin replied. 'Lots of it.' He carefully placed the plans back into their leather case and hid it underneath his clothes. 'Come on, we need to go. Gwaine and Lancelot will be dead on their feet.'

Merlin snuck out of the archives while Gaius engaged Geoffrey in a lengthy conversation about the history section of the archives, taking him off to show him where damp had crept in and was ruining the books there. By the time his mentor left the archives with Gwen, Merlin was already dressed in full chainmail and uniform, marching towards Gwen's house; the case pressing against his chest.

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	14. Chapter 14

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Here's the next chapter. I hope you like it; I think you will! Let me know!

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**Chapter 14**

Gwaine and Lancelot listened to Gaius repeat the tale of Veneficus with less awe than Merlin had, but with the same sense of the incredible secrecy of the city. But none of them had time to revel too much in their find and as soon as the story had been explained they set to the task of forming a new plan.

It made sense for Merlin, Gwaine and Lancelot to take up the task of climbing down into the ruins of the city, but Merlin knew that Gwaine's presence would limit how he could use his magic, and if for any reason he did end up facing Sythe, then he wanted to be using the full potential of his magic. As such, he turned his attention to protecting Gwen and assigning Gwaine the task of doing so.

'As long as I'm hidden, I won't need protecting,' Gwen argued as soon as Merlin voiced the suggestion, which was quickly followed by Gwaine refusing to be left behind.

'It will be easier for two of us to sneak by unnoticed,' Lancelot added.

'Whose side are you on?' Gwaine huffed. 'If anything, Merlin should be staying behind and protecting Gwen. You and I are the knights. We're meant to be saving the Prince, not watching Merlin chase after a sorcerer.'

'I've got more experience with sorcerers and magical creatures than any of you,' Merlin protested. 'I'll be better at guessing how Theo will react.'

'Then the three of us go after we've hidden Gwen,' Gwaine said before sitting down as if the matter was closed. Merlin sighed inwardly; this was going to be difficult. Gwaine's instincts were to fight and to be in a place of action, not looking after Gwen who, as she had said, probably would be fine on her own.

'It's still better for only two of us to go,' Merlin tried again carefully. 'But,' he carried on, 'maybe you can do something else Gwaine.'

He said nothing, but gave Merlin his attention. The fact of the matter was, that if this was going to work, they had to delay Theo finding out that Arthur had been rescued for as long as was possible. Based on Gwen's information that Theo had disappeared late on in the afternoon, it stood to reason that he wouldn't bother returning until the following morning, maybe even later than that. If they could rescue Arthur early in the evening today, and then distract Theo in the morning, they would have nearly a day to convince Uther that the current Prince was an imposter. With that assured, they could rally a defence and, hopefully, defeat Sythe through sheer force. And, Merlin added mentally to himself, with a few well timed magical attacks. Unless of course, Gaius came up with anything more certain in between times.

Gwaine seemed to decide that maybe creating distractions was a good enough reason to leave the rock climbing and rescue to Lancelot and Merlin. That settled, they began discussing the best distractions; things that Theo would have no choice but to address if he was to keep up his pretence of being Prince Arthur. Before they came up with anything, however, Gwaine stood up and got dressed in his guard disguise.

'Leave it to me,' he told them, heading towards the door.

'Gwaine, where are you going?' Merlin asked him incredulously.

'Few things to sort out first; you want a distraction, you'll get one. I'll be back in a few hours to relocate the damsel in distress,' he added, winking at Gwen. With that he was gone.

'Shouldn't you stop him?' Gwen asked. Merlin looked over at Lancelot, but the knight just shrugged.

'He does that a lot. He always manages to come back unscathed.'

'As long as he doesn't get recognised, he'll be fine,' Merlin sighed, trying to convince himself that letting Gwaine on the loose in Camelot wouldn't be a disaster.

It didn't take much longer to put the finishing touches to their plan. Gwen went to the castle to try and retrieve another guard uniform and as much rope as they thought they would need to scale the rock face of the dragon cave, while Gaius set to work on finding out as much as he could about Sythe in the hopes that it would provide them with an advantage when they finally did have to face him and defeat him.

An hour or so later, Gwen reappeared with the rope; Merlin and Lancelot had already donned their disguises, with each of them wearing a second layer of either chainmail or leathers from the extra guard uniform.

'Good luck,' Gwen told them, her smile wary.

'Don't worry about us,' Merlin assured her. 'Just make sure Gwaine takes you somewhere safe. And don't forget to send Theo the note saying you feel ill. The last thing we need is him coming to find you and realising you've gone.'

'Gaius says he'll keep him away if he comes to ask how I am.'

'Good, then we'll see you in a day or so.'

'Be careful,' Lancelot added.

'You too.'

With that, they headed back into the castle.

* * *

Although Merlin was sure scaling the dragon cave would be difficult, their first obstacle was getting down there without rousing suspicion. Entering the castle had been straightforward enough with their disguises, but there was no way that the prison guards would let them casually stroll down to Kilgharrah's cave, and knocking the men out would arouse too much suspicion.

So it was that they decided to take advantage of the changing of the guards which took place every three hours. Ten minutes before the next change was due, the two of them went down to the guards on the pretence of swapping shifts with them.

'A bit early aren't you?'

'Got back from patrols early,' Lancelot explained, changing his voice to a rougher version of his own. 'Thought you'd be grateful.'

'We're not complaining,' the second guard said. 'Thanks.'

As soon as they were gone, Merlin scrawled down a note for the actual guards -who would be arriving very soon- explaining that their predecessors had been called away on a patrol, but had been given permission to leave their post temporarily as the change over was due shortly.

'You think that will be enough?' Merlin asked.

'Trust me; they won't question it,' Lancelot assured him. Satisfied by the knight's confidence, Merlin left the note in an obvious place at the table and then snuck back up the stairs to retrieve the rope that they had left behind a tapestry. Soon the two of them had followed the corridors from the dungeons and were quickly making their way down the staircase to the platform where Merlin had gone to speak to Kilgharrah so many times in the past and often with such dire consequences.

Now, however, when Merlin looked around the vast cavern, he noticed things that had never occurred to him before; things that should have suggested to him, that the vast place was not just a cave, eroded over the years by the force of nature. The rock pillars that he had assumed had been formed over hundreds of years, now appeared to be spaced more evenly, as if by design, and the appearance of the rough walls did not seem to be linked to the gradual erosion that he had witnessed in other structures; they were not smooth enough. Instead, the uneven surfaces, spoke of trauma and attack; huge impacts that had been intended to make the room unrecognisable from what it had once been.

He looked at the cavern with a new sense of its importance and history. Kilgharrah must have known what it used to be; he must have seen it when it was in all its glory. Had he been on the side of those who destroyed it or the ones who would have happily continued to enforce magical rule? Merlin guessed that it would be the latter. How much more bitterness would have been added to him at being chained in a place that he had known was once beautiful?

'You say you've been here before?' Lancelot asked.

'Many times; I visited, Kilgharrah.'

'I don't suppose he gave you any advice on how to get down to the bottom safely did he?'

'He gave me plenty of advice, but not that I'm afraid. Here…' he said as he watched Lancelot try and work out exactly where he could tie the end of the rope securely. Concentrating and holding out his hands, one towards the wall and one to hold the rope against it, Merlin uttered a spell.

'Tabesco quod reform teneo funis.' Instantly the rock at the tip of the rope seemed to melt and bubble. Carefully, Merlin pushed the rope into it about half a metre. As soon as he stopped, the rock seemed to solidify again. Merlin gave it a few experimental tugs and then handed it over to Lancelot to do the same, deciding that testing it against Lancelot's strength would be a much better way of checking it could hold them.

'Handy trick,' Lancelot told him, clapping him on the shoulder and then peering over the edge of the precipice as he threw down the rope. 'It's a long way to the bottom.

'I don't think we'll need to go all the way down. I think it's only so deep because they destroyed all the floors. Ten or twenty metres should be enough and then we should be able to see the ruins of the old corridors.'

'And if not?'

'I don't know,' he admitted. He wasn't giving too much thought to the 'and if not' scenario. He was just hoping that the path would reveal itself to them as they continued to try different things.

Between them, they decided that Merlin would make his way down the rope first. The idea did not sit comfortably with Merlin and it was only by imagining the situation that Arthur was in that he managed to push past the fear that seemed to strangle at his throat and send his heart pounding through his chest, and begin moving down the rope. As he did so, Lancelot lay flat on his stomach watching his friend shimmy down. Merlin was convinced that he was doing it with considerably less ease than Lancelot would in a few minutes time, but his awareness of the huge drop below made him forget his pride and focus on the rope in his hands and against his feet. As he disappeared further into the darkness, Merlin scanned the area carefully.

'What do you see?'

'It's too dark. Hold on.' He whispered the spell to create a small ball of blue light and directed it slightly away from himself; it grew in intensity as he did, illuminating a huge area of the cave.

'How about now?'

'Yes,' Merlin said excitedly. 'I can see something. A tunnel maybe, but it's tiny; nearly covered by fallen rocks. There's a ledge in front of it.' Sure enough, there, in the wall of the cave, was a small hole, big enough for them to squeeze through at a push, with a ledge about half a metre wide in front of it; evidently the remains of the floor. As Merlin looked around, though, he saw similar rock protrusions extending from the rock at that level. How much damage had the sorcerers done that the cave was barely recognisable as the grand room that it had once been?

'Any ideas about how to reach it?' he asked Lancelot. 'It's quite a long way.' He was currently dangling at least ten or eleven metres from the small hole; obviously this room hadn't lined up completely with the wall of the Main Hall above it.

'You'll have to swing.'

'What?'

'You'll have to swing and jump.'

'Jump?'

'Unless you can build a magical rope bridge,' Lancelot told him, an edge of amusement in his tone. Merlin considered the idea for several seconds longer than he really needed to in the hope that he could somehow construct that spell whilst dangling in mid-air, but he knew it was futile.

'Fine,' he muttered.

'Go lower then, until the arc of the swing will get you to the ledge.'

'It's not a very big ledge,' Merlin told him, hearing the fear in his voice, but he moved down a few more metres.

'You're doing great, Merlin. And don't worry; I'll help.'

'How are you going to-' but he stopped abruptly as he felt the rope beginning to move forward and back. 'Lancelot,' he called; a slight hysteria in his voice, as he looked up to see the knight pushing the rope.

'Just hold on and get ready to jump.'

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but found that his voice seemed to have temporarily deserted him; that didn't happen very often.

As the seconds went by, Merlin began to feel sick with the motion of the rope, but there was no doubt that he was getting closer and closer to the ledge. Eventually he got to the point where he knew he could jump and land on the ledge, but his fingers seemed to freeze in place.

'Merlin?' Lancelot asked.

'Yeah, I…' he tried, but he didn't know what to say. He was swinging away from the ledge again.

'Merlin, you need to jump.'

Merlin closed his eyes and drew up a picture of Arthur in his head; imagined him being tormented by Theo, imagined his desperation to escape. He saw the anger and frustration that Arthur was no doubt living through and realised that he and Lancelot were the only people who could save him. With that Merlin opened his eyes and saw the ledge fast approaching. He timed it and tensed his muscles and then let go.

His momentum slammed him hard into the wall, but he managed to grab hold of some of the fallen rocks to steady himself.

'Merlin? Are you alright?'

'Yes, I made it. I'm on the ledge.'

Lancelot made considerably less work of it than Merlin had. He was soon swinging the rope back and forth, showing an upper body strength that Merlin could never hope to possess. With a final yell, the knight let go of the rope and flew towards Merlin. He teetered on the edge of the ledge for a few seconds as his momentum spun him sideways, but Merlin threw out his hand and steadied him.

'Thanks,' he breathed. He quickly gathered up the rope and forced the bundle in a gap between two of the boulders that blocked part of the entrance – boulders that Merlin now realised were the remains of the stone archway that must once have bordered the tunnel they were next to. 'After you then, Merlin,' he said when that was done. 'You're the one with the light.'

'Right,' Merlin nodded. He lowered himself onto his stomach, his feet dangling over the edge and then shuffled forward.

It took a long time to make their way through the tunnel, not least because it had been so badly damaged when the city was destroyed, but there was always a big enough gap for them to squeeze through, although magic had to be used on a few occasions to widen the passage by the smallest amount. Merlin hated doing it, knowing that if certain rocks were moved it could bring the whole tunnel crashing down, but they remained uncrushed. Merlin's head, on the other hand, was all but ringing as he continuously banged the helmet he was wearing against the roof. No matter what he tried, he didn't seemed to be able to compensate for the extra height. Eventually, at Lancelot's suggestion, they both removed them and looped their arms through the strap; dragging them along the floor.

Under normal circumstances, Merlin would have felt nothing but fear at being in such a confined unstable place, but the surroundings that he could see pushed aside all his anxieties. The more he looked, the more he realised that at one time this city would have been the most beautiful and impressive structure in the land. The black, polished stone of the corridors seemed to shine with its own illumination as soon as it caught the glow of his light, and the patterns and magical traits carved into what remained of the walls were breathtaking. Every image and symbol that had been etched into the stone seemed to be alive with its own uniqueness; seemed to thrum with its own hidden power. Merlin didn't know if Lancelot could sense it, but Merlin felt like he was walking through a part of his own soul. The magic resonated through him, but it had a strange neutrality about it; neither good nor bad. Perhaps it had lain dormant for so long that its original casters' intentions had faded, leaving only the power. Merlin could feel it entering him and merging with his desire to do good. By the time they reached the end of the tunnel and Merlin had passed through a final blockade of rubble into a huge room, he felt like his magic was thrumming through him so much more powerfully than he remembered in a long time.

As soon as Lancelot was through the tunnel, Merlin extinguished his light, instead grabbing a torch from one of the sconces on the wall and using magic to light it. Lancelot took it from him and pressed further into the immense darkness of the place.

'Can you feel the power in here?' Merlin whispered to him.

'I don't know. It feels very…real,' he muttered. 'I don't know how to explain it.' He shook his head and moved the torch around. 'This is the Court Room isn't it?'

'Yes. Arthur must be here somewhere.'

They moved forward, the flames casting shadows all around them. The room was enormous and the shadows scuttled in and out of each other, spreading out over vast distances into the room until Merlin felt himself jumping at every movement that he saw from the corner of his eye. He scanned the darkness frantically, looking for any sign of Arthur, feeling his frustration and despair increase with every second that passed, but eventually he saw something at the edge of the light.

'There!' he hissed to Lancelot and instantly the two of them were running forward.

On the ground, curled in on himself, looking so much younger than Merlin ever remembered seeing him, lay Arthur. Around his waist was a thick chain. His clothes were stained with blood and his hands were cracked and blistered. His face was pale and drawn and a deep sadness and grief seemed to emanate from him, even in his sleeping state. This was not the same Arthur that Merlin had known for years, not with that much defeat written across every inch of his face. Merlin felt his heart beat painfully in his chest as he looked at what had happened to his friend.

'Arthur,' he whispered, falling to his knees by the Prince and shaking his shoulders. He didn't respond, something which only alarmed Merlin more. Arthur never let his guard down. He could be awake and alert at the slightest sound. Lancelot tried as well, giving Merlin a look of deep concern as there was still no response.

'Arthur!' Merlin tried more forcefully, shaking him again. 'Wake up! You're wasting time!'

The Prince stirred slowly, painful breaths emerging from his cracked lips. His eyes opened and closed several times, rolling back and forwards in his head as if they couldn't find the energy or the strength to focus on anything, but eventually they opened and settled on Merlin.

Merlin felt a deep sadness spike through him as he looked into Arthur's eyes. They were lost, unsure… dead. There was no hope in them, no belief that he would ever get out of this situation. Merlin realised with shock that Arthur had given up.

'Arthur,' he whispered; his voice catching as he squeezed the man's shoulder. But the sound of his voice seemed to stir something in the Prince. His eyes went wide and, faster than Merlin would have thought possible, he shot up and backed away, crashing into the weight that the chain was linked to with so much force that even he cried out in pain. He stared at Merlin with an agonised disbelief and then he closed his eyes and bowed his head, holding it in his hands and shaking it. He looked up again as if to see if Merlin would still be there.

Merlin didn't know what to do. Never in all the time he had known Arthur had the Prince acted like this. He looked over at Lancelot, hoping he could shed some light on the situation, but he looked just as bewildered. Meanwhile, Arthur had looked away from Merlin and was now surveying the room with hard eyes. He turned around, looking everywhere; he closed his eyes and listened; he looked down at his hands, studying them intently, before finally returning his gaze to Merlin. Merlin faltered under the ferocious expression; never had Arthur looked at him with such rage.

'Arthur…?'

'This is cruel!' he shouted; his voice feral and rough. 'Enough of it! I demand that you stop!'

'Please, Arthur-' Merlin said, creeping forwards a few steps, moving towards the Prince like he was a wild animal.

'Don't speak! Don't you dare use him now! Enough!' He was backing away as he spoke, trying to get away from Merlin. On seeing this, Merlin stopped, not knowing what to do or how to help.'

'Arthur, it's me. It's Merlin.'

At the words, something snapped in Arthur. Merlin saw it flick across his face, like the slash of a sword coming down. He stood up straight, his mouth curled in a snarl.

'I will kill you,' he said, his voice low, but perfectly clear. And before Merlin could even register the movement, he found himself on his back on the floor, Arthur pinning him there; his hands slowly crushing Merlin's throat.

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	15. Chapter 15

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Hope you like the next chapter. Please let me know!

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**Chapter 15**

Merlin attempted to cry out as his fingers wrapped around Arthur's hands, trying to prise them open, but to no avail. The Prince's arms were tense with the effort he was putting into choking the life out of Merlin.

'Arthur,' he gasped, the word barely above a whisper, but the Prince only slammed his head hard against the rock floor. Merlin felt the world pitch at the impact, pain shooting through his head like a knife, and for a moment his hands loosened on Arthur's. Was this really how he was going to die? At the hands of a possessed Arthur who, if he ever realised what he had done, would be destroyed by the guilt. But suddenly Lancelot was there, having thrown the torch to the floor. With a shout, he leapt towards Arthur, tackling him around the chest. Even with the force of Lancelot's attack, Arthur still didn't let go of Merlin's neck and he felt himself being hauled forward so that suddenly he was pinning Arthur, but without the advantage of the upper hand. Lancelot joined in the efforts to prise Arthur's hands loose, but Merlin knew in himself that his strength was dwindling. His vision was blurring and his chest felt like it was trying to burst open.

'You're going to kill him!' Lancelot yelled at Arthur, but the Prince showed nothing other than satisfaction. Just as he was about to pass out, Merlin saw the gleam of Lancelot's sword and then felt Arthur tense from where Lancelot had delivered a deep cut to the back of the Prince's hand. With a yell he loosened that hand and Lancelot pulled Merlin away with so much force that it knocked both of them backwards, leaving Arthur snarling on the floor.

Merlin rolled sideways, away from Lancelot, gasping in deep breaths between choking and coughing. His stomach heaved and he vomited what little was in it onto the floor, before taking more desperate inhalations in an attempt to fill his pleading lungs. He rolled onto his back, and tried to clear his vision by blinking rapidly. From his sideways view on the floor, he watched Arthur scramble to his feet and take two steps forward before Lancelot blocked his way. Arthur lunged at him, but the attack was uncharacteristically sloppy and the knight sidestepped it easily, before delivering a hard blow to the side of Arthur's head. He staggered to the side and then collapsed to the floor; still conscious, but completely dazed by the impact.

Merlin closed his eyes and felt his chest heaving up and down as if his body wasn't sure when it would find itself running out of air once more. A gentle hand on his shoulder caused him to open his eyes again and he saw Lancelot's worried face studying him intently.

'Are you alright?'

'…I…' Merlin tried to reassure him, but he couldn't speak; his throat was screaming in agony. He nodded his head instead and gratefully accepted the hand that Lancelot offered to pull him to his feet. Once upright, Merlin felt his balance waver and cringed as his head pounded, but after a few seconds and a few magical thoughts, as Arthur was looking the other way, Merlin managed to ease those symptoms.

On the floor, Arthur seemed to have given up the fight. He lay there, groaning slightly and trying to sit himself up properly. Merlin and Lancelot took several steps towards him, but still kept a healthy distance. This was not what Merlin had expected. He had been prepared for Arthur to be in a bad physical state, but he had never for one moment entertained the idea that his mind would be so troubled. The Prince looked at them, fury in his eyes.

'My mind is my own; get out of it, now,' the threat in his voice sent a shudder through Merlin, but it was quickly followed by a sudden revelation. He looked over at Lancelot, his eyes wide, but the knight had caught on.

'The enchantment,' he said quickly. 'It wasn't just for show.'

'Arthur,' Merlin whispered, his voice cracking and making its protests against the usage well and truly known. Instantly, Lancelot was kneeling beside Arthur who looked wary, but didn't move to attack him.

'Arthur, this is real. It isn't a vision or a hallucination. Merlin and I have been trying to find you and rescue you.'

Arthur laughed and shook his head, sitting himself up slowly.

'It's convincing, I'll give you that.' His voice was cold, devoid of all emotion. 'Except for one fact,' he added, anger and pain in his words. 'Merlin is dead.'

The shock that Merlin felt at hearing the words was soon replaced by an overwhelming grief for what Arthur had gone through, because there was no doubt that the Prince believed what he was saying.

'Dead?' he asked, his voice no louder than a whisper, but Arthur heard it and flinched. Cautiously Merlin moved closer, but Arthur refused to look him in the eye.

'Why do you say that?' Lancelot asked.

'No, I won't go along with this. I'm not playing your games anymore,' Arthur told him firmly, shuffling back, but Merlin moved towards him, knelt down and laid a hand on his shoulder. He recoiled from it instantly, but it staid him in his tracks and he looked at Lancelot again. 'I saw it all: the false murder charge; the conversations in the dungeons; Merlin deciding to go through with the execution. You made me live the conversations,' he said viciously, stabbing a finger into Lancelot's chest.

'They were visions,' Merlin croaked. 'This is real.'

'You were executed,' Arthur told him, still not looking at him, still with bile in his voice.

'No…I…I,' he faltered as his throat seemed to close against the movement. 'I was going to be and then I…' he shook his head in frustration and looked pleadingly at Lancelot. 'I can't…' he mouthed, pointing at his throat.

'He realised that it wasn't really you,' Lancelot continued. 'He realised you were being impersonated so he escaped and Gwaine and I got him out of the city.'

Arthur's face, which had been a mask of fierce anger, began to smooth out at the words into one of disbelief and shock.

'What?' he breathed, his voice sounding no stronger than Merlin's. 'But all the conversations, the plan to get executed…'

'They happened,' Lancelot nodded, 'but the execution never went ahead. The sorcerer's been lying to you.'

Arthur turned to look at Merlin, his eyes wide and vulnerable, hope beginning to brim in them, a hope that he was desperately fighting.

'You're…?'

'Me,' Merlin nodded, attempting his best reassuring-Arthur grin, but being quite certain that he was failing miserably with the pain he was in.

'But…'

'Come on Arthur,' he whispered, forcing his throat through the pain. 'You know I always survive.'

Merlin saw that the words cemented the truth in Arthur's mind. His whole face changed, a brightness seemed to flood into it and some of the pain that had caused it to be so tense and fierce melted away. He opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped before any words came out. Merlin saw the emotion running through him, the immense relief at finding out the truth. The Prince's eyes grew bright and his face trembled as he attempted to hold back the tears that he so rarely displayed. Instead he put his hand on Merlin's shoulder –such a familiar gesture, but one that had never been carried out with such a weight of grief in it. Merlin could almost feel Arthur's pain at believing his friend had died and it brought tears to his own eyes. He wished for the hundredth time that he had realised sooner.

Merlin expected Arthur to say something to him, anything at all, but instead, the Prince put his head down and dropped his hand. His shoulders began to shake with emotion and he put his head in his hands, his breathing ragged and disjointed.

'Arthur,' Merlin whispered. He looked over at Lancelot wanting to know what he should do, but the knight had moved away, evidently deciding that the moment was a private one. And so Merlin turned to his own instincts. Something told him that, for once, witty banter would not be the way forward. Whatever Arthur had been through, had affected him much more deeply than Merlin could have anticipated. The only time he had seen Arthur like this was when he had challenged Uther about his mother's death.

What had Uther done then? But no, Merlin would not use Uther's attempts at comfort. Uther had lied his way through that situation. No, Merlin had known Arthur long enough to know how he could help him and it was simple really; there was one thing that Arthur had always needed and always would need, though he would never admit it.

He needed someone by him.

And so Merlin moved over until he was sitting next to Arthur, and then slowly he put a hand across his friend's shoulder. He didn't say anything, knowing it would only embarrass Arthur. He just sat with him, sharing his pain, trying to ease it, trying to make him see that it was not necessary.

Arthur didn't move, gave no indication that Merlin's efforts had made any difference to him, but one thing convinced him that it had, Arthur didn't stop crying. He knew how ridiculous that logic was, but he also knew that an Arthur who wanted to hide his emotions and hurts would have shrugged off the arm around his shoulder and forced his tears to cease. This Arthur, this Arthur who Merlin had only seen glimpses of in the past, was one who didn't care if Merlin saw him upset, who simply needed someone to be there with him.

It took only a few minutes for Arthur to stop crying, but he kept his head in his hands for much longer before suddenly putting his head up and looking at Merlin fearfully.

'Guinevere,' he said. 'Sythe is trying to-'

'Gw…' Merlin cursed his throat's weakness. 'Gwaine has hidden her,' he managed the second time, some of his own tone entering back into it, rather than the ragged whispers.

Arthur's relief was evident, but his expression soon sobered and his eyes dropped down to Merlin's throat, which he was sure was now covered in purple bruises. Self-consciously he pulled his neckerchief higher up, in an attempt to conceal them, before realising that he wasn't wearing it; it hadn't quite gone with his guard of Camelot disguise. He could see the guilt in Arthur's eyes.

'Merlin…I…' he began, but Merlin shook his head.

'It's fine, you were confused,' he whispered.

'It's not fine, Merlin. I could have killed you.'

'Nah, you'd never manage it,' he grinned, but the hacking coughs that followed his attempt to speak more loudly ruined the carefree effect he had been going for somewhat and only served to fill Arthur's face with more guilt. 'Really,' he said once they'd subsided. 'I'm fine.'

'I'm sorry.'

'You apologising?' Merlin replied. 'Maybe you're the imposter.'

Arthur looked at him incredulously and then gave him a gentle shove.

'Well you're definitely not one,' Arthur told him, but then he looked at him seriously again. 'Thank you, Merlin.'

'For my fantastic sense of humour?'

Arthur shrugged. 'Just thank you,' he nodded. Merlin didn't know what to say to that and so settled for nodding back.

'We need to go.' Both he and Arthur looked up at the sound of Lancelot's voice. 'We need to get you out of that chain.' He took out his sword and asked Arthur to pull the chain tight against the weight that it was welded into. Merlin noticed, with concern, that Arthur's steps were much more fatigued than they had first appeared. The sooner they got him out of here, the better.

Once Arthur had pulled the chain as tight as he could, which sent him around the other side of the weight, Lancelot gave Merlin a meaningful look. Merlin moved around the side and saw what Lancelot meant. The chain was thick and if the magical history of this place was any indication, it could be very difficult to break.

Signalling that Lancelot should distract Arthur, Merlin reached out his hand and touched the blade of the sword. While Lancelot told Arthur, very loudly, to pull the chain tighter, Merlin whispered a fortifying spell over the sword. With that done, Lancelot moved closer to where Arthur was and took an almighty swing at the chain.

It came away first time, leaving Arthur with about half a metre's worth of chain left dangling from his waist.

'We'll get the rest off later,' Lancelot assured him. 'We've brought extra clothes to disguise the fact that you were kidnapped,' he continued, nodding to Merlin. The two of them began taking off their layers.

'Why?' Arthur asked. 'The sooner the people see me, the sooner we can prove the other me's an imposter.'

'No, we need more time to convince your father. As soon as Theo hears-'

'Theo?' Arthur interrupted. 'Theo as in keeper of armoury and training grounds?'

'He's the sorcerer, Sythe,' Merlin nodded, pleased to hear that his voice was sounding minutely more normal.

'But he was here for years. He was an excellent worker,' Arthur argued.

Merlin tried to outline what they had found, but his voice wouldn't co-operate and so Lancelot took over. Arthur still didn't look convinced, but nodded his assent. At this point, anything was possible.

'So we need you to appear to be the same Arthur that's been here for the past two weeks,' Lancelot finished. 'If not, it will give Sythe a chance to retaliate before we've convinced your father of the truth.'

They got changed into their clothes, Merlin trying not to look too closely at the wound that ran around Arthur's waist, and then Lancelot retrieved the two helmets that had gone skittering across the floor during Arthur's crazed attack earlier. That done, they headed back towards the tunnel. Merlin knew that they had hours before Sythe even attempted to come and visit Arthur, but suddenly his sense of urgency increased ten fold and his pace quickened towards the tunnel.

Their progress was relatively quick back to the ledge, but Merlin could tell that Arthur was struggling. It was only when he looked back over his shoulder and saw the Prince's pained expression that he remembered the blistered hands that had no doubt been caused by pulling at the chain; coupled with the slash Lancelot had given him, it was fair to assume that Arthur was in a lot of pain. It was at that point that Merlin realised the two problems they were facing once they reached the ledge. The first being that, with his hands in that state, Arthur would not be able to climb the rope back up to the platform and the second being that, if by some miracle Arthur did manage to reach the top, he was no doubt going to be somewhat suspicious as to how they welded a rope into a sheer rock face.

He voiced his concerns about the first problem to the two of them. Arthur insisted that he would manage it; Merlin laughed that off and told him to stop being so arrogant, and then Lancelot, much to Arthur's dismay, suggested that they tie the rope around him and haul him up. The Prince tried to argue, but eventually conceded that it would probably be the only way.

Fifteen minutes later, Merlin found himself staring up into the darkness as Lancelot climbed the rope back up to the dragon cave entrance. Quickly he went over his plan to ensure that Arthur went up last, at least then, Merlin could un-weld the rope and have the combined strength of Lancelot and himself to haul Arthur the rest of they way up. Now all he had to do was convince Arthur to let him go first.

As it turned out, it wasn't necessary.

'You go next, Merlin,' Arthur told him as Lancelot reached the top and began swinging the rope back and forth so that it could reach them on the ledge.

Merlin found his mouth opening to argue. It suddenly seemed absurd that Arthur should be left down here, alone and undefended. But he clamped it shut and nodded his assent. It wasn't until he was three or four metres up that he turned back to Arthur grinning.

'Good job I went first; it'll need the two of us to pull you up.'

'Merlin!'

As soon as Merlin got to the top, he whispered the spell to release the rope from the rock face and joined Lancelot in bracing themselves against the strain of pulling Arthur up, but soon enough he was at the top with them, untying the knots that he had created as fast as he could.

Merlin waited with baited breath to see whether he would ask about where the rope had been tied, but he made no comment, evidently making his own assumptions, none of which –Merlin was sure- would be anywhere near the truth. A few minutes later, Arthur was striding purposely through the dungeons, two guards following obediently behind him.

* * *

It was with a terrible sense of fatigue that Arthur made his way through Camelot. Merlin had instructed him to head towards Gaius' quarters, but never had the rooms seemed such a distance away. His mind was racing with so many thoughts, that he found it hard to even concentrate on the route he would take. All he knew was that he was meant to avoid any of the main routes so that they didn't run into Sythe.

Despite the obvious perils of their current situation and his exhausted, malnourished and emotionally drained state, Arthur felt an incredible lightness inside of himself.

Merlin was alive!

The joy that he had felt when he had realised the truth had completely overwhelmed him. The pain that had been drowning him and burning him inside suddenly evaporated out of his being, leaving him with a euphoric sense of light and goodness; two things that he always associated with his manservant. But not only that: for a moment, one where the heights of his emotions had given him an unparalleled clarity, Arthur had realised how much he needed Merlin. The feeling of a connection between them had suddenly been just as much of a reality as the pain in his body.

A sense of purpose had encompassed him, and even now, with the certainty of that revelation fading, he still felt the undeniable pull of it; the thought that he and Merlin, together were meant to achieve something more than what they were currently doing. It pulsed through him like a heartbeat; like life itself. He had laughed it off at first: Merlin and himself working towards something together, each an irreplaceable piece of the same plan! But his amusement had fallen flat and he had been forced to admit that ever since they had met, the same feeling had been there. Merlin acted in a way which suggested to Arthur that he already knew about the connection, that he felt it or understood it. It was evident in his dedication, in his actions, in the way he had gently and loyally steered Arthur and counselled him and encouraged him when times were tough.

Arthur had never realised what Merlin's commitment had stemmed from, but now he began to believe that Merlin had known for years. Suddenly he wondered if his friend had always felt the same sense of togetherness and future that now thrummed through Arthur in a way that he couldn't deny.

One word was whispering around Arthur's head and, as much as he tried to ignore it, he couldn't shake it from his mind.

Destiny.

Never before would Arthur had believed that he and Merlin were destined to meet and become friends and shape the future; he would have laughed at anyone who even hinted at it. But now…now he couldn't quite convince himself that there was any other explanation. He had known the deep and cutting grief of believing that Merlin was dead and it had been about loosing his friend, the most devoted of servants, but it had also filled him with an emptiness that came from feeling like a certain path had been closed to you.

And then he had discovered the truth, discovered that Merlin was alive and rescuing him and helping him, and suddenly he had felt a path forming once more, a path that was only open to him if Merlin was there. And somehow, it felt like the one he was meant to walk.

He glanced back at Merlin -who gave him a grin that no guard of Camelot would ever display- and then noticed the marks on his neck, just visible above the chainmail collar. Guilt flared through him again; how close had he come to making Sythe's deception a reality? He found it hard not to blame himself, but of course Merlin would never want him to.

He put it aside for now. Merlin's wounds would heal, as would Arthur's guilt.

They continued forward and Arthur saw the castle as if it was a distant memory returning to him. Everything was so normal, so natural. For the first time, he understood the completeness of Sythe's deception: no-one had had a clue that anything was wrong; they still didn't. The moon shone down on a city content in the belief that all was safe and that their rulers were working for them.

The warning bells peeling out across the town, however, soon shattered that illusion. Arthur turned to Lancelot and Merlin in alarm.

'Oh no,' Merlin breathed. 'He must have found out.'

'How?' Lancelot asked as a group of soldiers headed towards them, all but running.

'Sire,' one said. 'What are your orders?' For a moment, Arthur found that he had no idea how to answer. What could he say? He didn't know what they had been told. He could only assume that they hadn't yet seen his doppelganger.

'What information have you been given?'

'Only what you have told the generals, my Lord: the escaped prisoners are back in Camelot.'

'Then concentrate your search on the lower town. They will not risk coming near the castle,' Arthur said, pushing as much authority into his voice. After two weeks of being completely under Sythe's control, that was harder to do than he had expected. The soldiers disappeared quickly, but all around them, the castle was coming to life. Servants were waking; knights and soldiers were emptying from their rooms. Arthur moved forward, detouring to a guards' station to borrow a sword. If he was going to appear convincing as Prince –he rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of his thoughts- he needed a sword. As soon as he had it, he felt more at ease.

'We need to get to Gaius,' Merlin told him as they moved on. 'Just act natural.'

'I'm doing that Merlin, I've just picked up a sword,' Arthur told him through clenched teeth.

'I know, but just make sure you act like Arthur.'

'I am, Arthur!' he said, turning and fixing Merlin with a glare. Merlin had the decency to look sheepish. Destiny or not, Arthur wished he would keep some of those comments to himself sometimes.

They carried on, attempting to look like they were urgently dealing with the current situation, but as they got closer to the courtyard, taking the lesser used side passages, more mixed reports began coming in as soldiers and knights alike began bringing messages.

'Fires in the lower town, Sire.'

'Riots, my Lord. They're spreading throughout the town.'

'What is going on?' Arthur asked Merlin and Lancelot, once the soldiers had gone.

'I have a bad feeling that this might be Gwaine's attempt at a distraction,' Lancelot told him.

'Fires and riots?' Arthur asked him incredulously.

'It's Gwaine,' Merlin pointed out. Arthur glared at him again as they made their way out onto the courtyard, trying once again to look like they were meant to be there.

'I thought he was meant to be distracting Sythe so that he didn't find out I was gone?'

'Maybe he figured he might as well…'

_Arthur looked at the two guards that had been following him. If the search for the imposters was going to be successful, he needed every man to be out there looking for Lancelot, Gwaine and Merlin. They were traitors to Camelot, supposed friends and allies who had proven that they were enemies that could never be trusted; who had hurt him deeply and in the most terrible ways._

_ He opened his mouth to order them away, but then felt shock flow through him as he recognised the very faces of the men he had been so desperately trying to bring to justice. Instantly his defences flew up. How had they followed him? More importantly, what were they going to do now? Evidently they were planning to ambush him. _

_ Arthur looked around and saw the soldiers running back and forth in the courtyard a few metres away. A smile crept across his face. Whatever their plan was, it would not work. He drew his sword, watched them recoil in shock. 'You will pay for your crimes.'_

_ With that he swung his sword at the stunned men._

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	16. Chapter 16

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: apologies for the confusion last chapter. I genuinely hadn't meant that to be confusing, but maybe I hadn't made things clear enough in previous chapters. Hopefully this one will shed some light on the situation. Thanks very much for the reviews and please let me know what you think of this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 16**

Merlin saw the change in Arthur instantly. The Prince stopped suddenly, his body stiffening and swaying slightly before he turned. Merlin felt a terrible sense of déjà vu as he once again saw the expression on Arthur's face. But this was different to when they had found him in the ruins; this time his eyes had a faraway look about them as if he was focussing on something just beyond where Merlin and Lancelot stood. His face twisted from shock to confusion to anger and hurt.

'You will pay for your crimes,' he sneered. The next thing Merlin knew, he was diving out of the way as Arthur swung his sword and Lancelot threw his own up to block the blow. Merlin saw the pain cross Arthur's face as his blistered hands wielded the sword, but it did nothing to abate his fury and Lancelot was forced to push the Prince back with a sharp blow.

'What's wrong with him?' Lancelot asked breathlessly, placing himself between Merlin and Arthur.

'I think…I think it's the enchantment. Sythe's put another hallucination in his head.'

'But Sythe's not even here.'

'The spell…' he stopped as Arthur made another run at Lancelot; the knight blocked the blow, but it forced him towards Merlin. Quickly the knight went on the offensive, pushing Arthur back. 'The spell must work from a distance,' Merlin finished, but he didn't know if Lancelot had heard. He had been drawn back into the fight.

The sound of metal clashing together bounced off the walls of the side passages, far too loudly in a castle on alert from imposters, fires and riots.

'Arthur!' Merlin tried, but his voice lacked its usual strength and the Prince continued to attack Lancelot. Merlin wasn't too worried for Lancelot's safety; the knight could handle Arthur, especially in his current state. It was the people around who were beginning to be drawn to the sound of fighting - through they couldn't place it just yet - that worried him. 'Arthur. This is the hallucination! We're helping you. Sythe is the imposter!' Merlin just about managed to get his words out, but rather than placating Arthur, they only served to make him angrier. He delivered a kick to Lancelot as the knight blocked a slash, which sent the man flying backwards. Arthur took the opportunity to turn on Merlin.

'I trusted you,' he hissed, pointing his sword in Merlin's direction. Merlin held out his hands in surrender; the Arthur he knew would never strike an unarmed man, but something in this Arthur's eyes told him that the Prince's sense of betrayal went deeper than chivalry and etiquette. Whatever Sythe had put in his head was striking a deep chord.

'Arthur, this isn't real. Whatever you think we've done is a lie put in your head to try and help Sythe find out where you are.'

'Enough, Merlin.' He raised his sword. 'I have listened to your lies for long enough.'

Merlin saw the muscles in Arthur's arms tense, but just as suddenly, Lancelot sprung out of nowhere and, for the second time in as many hours, delivered a blow to the side of Arthur's head. This time it did knock him out. He crashed to the floor, completely still.

'I don't think that was the best plan,' Merlin told him as he saw more guards file into the courtyard and saw others heading their way.

'Watching him kill you didn't seem like a good alternative,' Lancelot told him. 'Help me.'

He indicated a second passage and began dragging the Prince into it. Merlin helped and they pressed themselves back behind the door as a group of soldiers from the courtyard headed their way. They were evidently looking for something that could have caused the sounds of fighting that they had just heard, but before they got there a call was put out in the courtyard for soldiers to attend to more riots in the town. A few of them stared suspiciously at the place where Arthur and Lancelot had been fighting a few moments ago, but their sense of duty pulled them away to follow their orders.

'What do we do now?' Merlin asked, pulling the chainmail hood up over Arthur's head to try and disguise him.

'We need to go to Gaius and then you need to take the curse off him. If he wakes up and he's still enchanted, he'll give us away.'

'But I need-'

'It's all in Gaius' quarters: the soil, the book. We kept them…just in case.'

Merlin absorbed the information with relief. It wouldn't take him long to perform the ritual. They had one other problem before then, however.

'How are we going to get him there without being seen?'

'We're just carry him over there,' Lancelot said.

'I don't think carrying an unconscious Prince Arthur is going to be inconspicuous enough.'

'I wouldn't be so sure: look.' Lancelot tilted his head sideways, indicating a small window that looked out onto the courtyard. Instantly, it became clear to Merlin what the knight meant. With the fires and riots, as well as the search for them, the courtyard was filling up with frightened civilians and battle ready soldiers. There was movement everywhere, with people milling backwards and forwards. Uther had not appeared on the balcony to try and command them, Sythe was no doubt fuming somewhere over the disappearance of his prisoner and there was a strange lack of knights around -especially Arthur's closest knights- to bring order. Perhaps Gwaine had roped the other knights into his somewhat chaotic plan.

'Gwaine's given us the perfect distraction,' Lancelot continued when Merlin turned back. 'We may as well use it, even if this wasn't its original purpose.' Merlin couldn't agree more and quickly moved over to lift Arthur's legs, while Lancelot grabbed him under the arms. With that done, they made their way across the courtyard, men running in all directions, doing hundreds of different jobs, and frightened women and children pushing through the crowds searching for help or maybe the face of a loved one. No-one gave them a second look as they carried a seemingly injured solider towards the physician's quarters. There were more important things to worry about.

Minutes later, they burst through into Gaius quarters, making the old man jump and turn in alarm. His relief at seeing them outweighed his annoyance at the invasion into his quarters.

'You found him,' he said, hurriedly spreading the spare blankets over the bed so that the Prince could be laid on it. 'When the bells sounded, I feared the worst,' he said gravely.

'No, we were already out by then,' Merlin explained.

'I'm worried to see Arthur in such a state,' Gauis continued, checking the Prince over. 'What happened to him?'

'Lancelot knocked him out,' Merlin explained hurriedly, rushing around in search of the magic book that he would need and the soil that he had spied tucked away in the corner. He had already gulped down a cup of water from Gaius' table and it had soothed his throat.

'What?'

'When Theo discovered he was gone, he induced another hallucination in Arthur,' Lancelot explained. 'We were heading back when suddenly he tried to attack us.'

'Hallucination? What are you talking about?'

'The enchantment Gaius; the one we thought I was under. It was never me that Sythe used it on; it was Arthur. He used it to learn how he should react to situations to make sure he was convincing. I need to get the curse off Arthur as quickly as possible.' He opened the sack of soil and clumsily tipped it out onto the floor. 'I need oil Gaius.' The physician had seemed somewhat shocked at Merlin's explanation, but the request snapped him out of it.

'Here.' He handed Merlin the jar of oil from his cupboard and Merlin set to work, referring frequently to the spell book to make sure that he copied the required glyphs out exactly and in the correct order and pattern.

While he was doing so, Gaius applied salve to Arthur's blistered hands, treating them carefully, before bandaging the deep cut that Lancelot had given him in the ruins.

'Merlin, I need this chain off,' Gaius called. Distractedly, Merlin flicked his wrist and muttered a spell. He heard the clunk of the chain as it was pulled away by Lancelot and dropped to the floor. A heavy sigh from Gaius caused Merlin to look up for a moment; he easily caught sight of the deep gashes that had been torn through the Prince's flesh. It was evident that he had fought so hard to escape. Merlin could only imagine the desolation he had felt at being so helpless. Pushing that from his mind, Merlin continued with his task, leaving Gaius to treat and bandage the wounds.

'What happened, Gaius?' Lancelot asked. 'Theo shouldn't have realised we were here or that Arthur was gone yet.'

'I believe Gwen's disappearance had something to do with it,' he said sadly.

'She's alright though?'

'Yes, Gwaine assured me that she was safe and hidden a few hours ago. But I believe Sythe wasn't happy with the note he received saying that she was ill and so couldn't come to see him.'

'He said something to you?' Lancelot asked, his confusion clear.

'Oh yes, he stormed into my quarters saying that she was not at home and demanding to know if I knew where she was as I was the physician.'

'He must know that Arthur would never act like that.'

'I'm sure he did, but he was angry. Somehow she had messed up a game that he-'

'Yes,' Lancelot interrupted, 'when we rescued Arthur he was desperate to know where she was. Sythe had threatened her.'

'Then perhaps her disappearance raised alarms in him,' Gaius said heavily. 'Maybe he realised that she had guessed or believed that somehow Arthur had informed her.'

'So he went to check,' Lancelot said in defeat.

'Whatever his reasons, we are now faced with a more difficult and dangerous task. Sythe will not take the fact that he has been fooled lightly. Loosing the upper hand will anger him greatly.'

'Then we need to convince Uther quickly and rally our forces against him.'

Merlin heard the significant silence from Gaius and knew what it was for. The armies of Camelot might be enough to counter Sythe, but not without huge casualties. Once again, he would have to find a way of defeating a powerful sorcerer. The enormity of his task, suddenly overwhelmed him, but a tremor in his hands sent a surge of fresh determination running through him; he would find a way; he had to find a way.

'I'm ready,' he called to the others as he put the stopper back in the jar of oil. 'I need some of Arthur's blood.' Quickly, Gaius made a small incision in Arthur's arm and dripped the blood into a phial. He handed it to Merlin.

Gently, so as to ensure that the blood soaked into the soil, Merlin tipped it into the centre of his pattern of glyphs and then scanned over the words of the spell book once more. Taking a deep breath, he uttered the words that would break the enchantment. As before, he felt the magic stir deep within him. As before, he saw the glyphs dance and sparkle with dark flames. But unlike before, he saw the blood in the middle bubble and heard frightening noises from across the room.

On the bed, Arthur's body was contorting violently, his whole form shuddering as his back arched and his limbs kicked out. Hurriedly, Lancelot and Gaius held him down, while terrible gasping noises escaped from his throat. And then suddenly, he began to shake uncontrollably, looking like nothing more than child's doll being thrown about. His head banged against the pillow and he gave strangled screams.

Everything in Merlin was telling him to end the spell and stop the torment that Arthur was obviously being subjected to, but he didn't stem the flow of magic; he had to free Arthur from Sythe's grip, no matter the pain it put the Prince through.

But as it went on, Merlin felt his will fading. Each choked cry shot through Merlin and he felt the terrible guilt of knowing that he was doing this to Arthur. But eventually, something changed. Arthur continued to thrash wildly, but now there was something different about the way he looked. A deep red glow seemed to emanate across his body and slowly, individual tendrils, looking like the roots of trees or the veins of leaves or the rivulets of water running across a dry land, began to drift out of his body. The earth spirits; the spirits whose power Sythe had summoned and used to induce Arthur's visions.

They twisted and turned as they moved and Arthur's whole body arched up as if being pulled by them, but suddenly they surged forwards; their auras racing towards the soil in the centre of the glyphs, entering the blood, which had now stopped bubbling, and then spreading out across the soil until the last vestiges of them disappeared. The flames dropped in a spilt second, as did Arthur's body which fell back onto the table with a soft thud.

'It worked,' Merlin breathed slowly; allowing the tension to drain out of him. Across the room, Gaius and Lancelot carefully let go of Arthur, as if half expecting him to begin thrashing again, but he remained completely still. They both turned to look at Merlin, relieved smiles on their faces.

'It worked,' he said more firmly.

But their relief was short lived as shouts began to sound from a few levels down. The noises were unmistakable.

'No, no, no,' Merlin said.

'They're searching this wing,' Lancelot said in alarm. 'We have to hide.'

'There isn't anywhere to hide in here!'

'Then wake Arthur up,' Gaius told them, his tone firm. 'They won't go against their Prince.'

They both nodded at the simplicity of the plan, but there were other more suspicious things currently scattered about the room. All three of them shared an unspoken agreement and then raced into life.

As quickly as he could, Merlin muttered a spell to put all the soil back into the sack. It flew into the bag as Merlin hid the spell book at the back of the book case and returned the oil to its position. Meanwhile, Gaius and Lancelot hurriedly put Arthur back in his clothes and moved him off the bed so that they could straighten it out.

'The spell you've just done, Merlin,' Gaius hissed.

'What about it?'

'You can't show that to Arthur to prove he's free of the enchantment.'

Below them the pounding of footsteps became more urgent. Merlin felt his heart begin to race; he had witnessed the more thorough searches that Camelot's soldiers had carried out and knew that they would not hesitate to crash through the door if they found it to be locked.

'I need parchment!' Gaius raced across the room with more speed than Merlin had ever seen him move. Meanwhile, he retrieved the book once more and opened it to the spell page. He whispered the words of a spell that he had come across during his many hours of writing Arthur's speeches. It was a way of copying texts and pictures without having to write them all out again. He quickly copied the first half of the spell onto the new parchment and then, using another spell which enabled him to write without having to use a quill, Merlin created an alternative counter curse: a potion that could be made with a series of random ingredients that Arthur wouldn't have a clue about. The Prince would looked at the new spell and be unaware that magic had been used to break it.

The rattle of chainmail seemed to shimmer in the air about them, closer still. Merlin slammed the book back onto the bookcase, hiding it behind several huge volumes, and rolled up the parchment, throwing it on a table.

'Merlin!' Lancelot whispered. He threw the helmet that Merlin had been wearing to him. Both of them had discarded them the minute they got through the door. Merlin remembered feeling a moment's relief as he was finally rid of the uncomfortable head gear. Now, he jammed it onto his head and fastened it tightly.

More sounds of pounding feet, only a floor down now.

'Wake him up, Merlin,' Gaius told him urgently. Merlin nodded and raced over to where the Prince now lay on the floor. Quickly, he whispered the healing spell that would stir Arthur from unconsciousness. He sat back on his haunches and felt his fear increase ten-fold as the Prince remained still.

'Merlin!' Lancelot hissed.

'It should work, it should work.' He tried it again to be met with the same result. 'No, no, no, no,' he cried. The footsteps were so close. Gaius quickly got up and slid the bolt in place.

'That won't stop them,' Lancelot said.

'Arthur!' Merlin whispered harshly, shaking him forcefully. 'Wake up, you clot pole. I'm sick and tired of you sleeping on the job.' No movement. Merlin felt desperation flood him. There was no possible way that they could give Uther a reasonable explanation as to why an unconscious Arthur was lying on the floor surrounded by two supposed traitors who were out to kill him. If Arthur didn't wake up then everything was over.

Dozens of feet, so close.

'Arthur!' Merlin tried again.

The banging of fists on the door echoed around Gaius' quarters.

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	17. Chapter 17

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Posting earlier than planned, but was very excited to see your reactions to this chapter! Thank you so much for all the reviews for the last chapter; let me know what you think of this one!

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**Chapter 17**

Arthur was distantly aware of someone insulting him. Insulting _him_! As Prince of Camelot, that wasn't something that happened to him all that often. His father's sense of humour didn't really extend to insults, nor did his anger give way to them. The citizens of Camelot treated him with respect and in recent years they generally seemed to like him as their Prince. There was no-one who would insult him. No-one except for…

'Arthur!'

Merlin's anxious whisper cut through the haze that Arthur found was clouding his mind, followed by a pounding that irritated his already throbbing head. When had he injured himself? He was about to make an attempt at opening his eyes, when ice cold water suddenly hit his face. His eyes shot open and he gasped at the sudden sensation.

Looking around frantically, his eyes fell on Merlin who was crouching by him holding an empty cup. Arthur opened his mouth to tell Merlin exactly what he thought about that, but before he could speak, his manservant cut him off.

'Soldiers outside. You need to send them away.' With that hurried comment he stood up, hauling Arthur up at the same time. He staggered to his feet, Lancelot pulling him up from the other side, just as the door in front of him crashed into the wall as it was forced open.

Lancelot and Merlin snapped to attention. It was only then that Arthur realised they were in Gaius' quarters. How they had got there and what they were doing there drew a blank in Arthur's mind. The last thing he remembered… He felt his heart sink as he remembered turning on Merlin and Lancelot, believing they had betrayed him, hurt the people he loved, handed Camelot over to enemies. He had been about to slice Merlin in half when…he didn't remember, but the throbbing in his head suggested that Lancelot had decided it was much less hassle just to render him unconscious.

'Sire? W-we thought…' one of the soldiers stuttered.

'Erm…' Arthur began. A significant cough from Merlin made Arthur clench his fists in irritation. He quickly wiped some of the water off his face with his sleeve and then glared at the men in front of him. 'What is the meaning of this?' he demanded, sounding more angry than he had intended to. The soldiers noticeably quailed at the tone.

'Sorry, my Lord,' another ventured. 'It's just that you told us to search here after checking the armoury wing.'

'And yet still I manage to arrive here first,' Arthur told them fiercely. 'I have checked these quarters myself. Make sure that your searches in the lower town show more urgency.'

'Yes, Sire,' the soldiers murmured, turning on their heels like dogs that had been scolded by their master. The relief in the occupants of the room was evident as Gaius shut the door again.

'You know, Arthur,' Merlin began, taking of his helmet and grinning like an idiot, 'that is the quickest I've ever seen you think.'

'Well thank you, Merlin,' he smiled. Merlin evidently caught the tone in his voice because his smile faltered a little.

'That was a compliment.'

'You threw water over me!' he spluttered, ignoring the comments.

'You've thrown water over me before! Besides, it was the only way to wake you up.'

'I was already conscious!'

'Well, you need to learn how to look it!'

'As helpful as this is,' Gaius told them wryly, 'don't you have somewhere you need to be?'

Arthur gave Merlin a final glare, before concentrating on their next move. Telling his father had been their plan before Sythe had scuppered it somewhat, but perhaps that was still the best thing to do. Sythe was no doubt going to push forward his plan to gain control of the city and now the only path that was really available to him was taking the city by force. If that was the case then Arthur needed to be fighting alongside his father. Despite the gravity of the situation, Arthur was pleased that he would have the opportunity to do just that: fight alongside his father. Since Morgana's terrible betrayal, Arthur had feared that he would never again have the chance to see the father that he had known for so many years. The change in his father after Morgana's treachery had taken Arthur by complete surprise and forced him to face the possibility that he could soon be a King with no parents or siblings to help him.

The revelation had frightened him, though he would never admit it, and, until Sythe had captured him, he had allowed the thought of being king to sink him into a lethargy and depression that nobody had been able to lift. Now he didn't feel that at all. The last vestiges of the darkness that Sythe had forced him into still clung to the back of his mind, making him feel tired and a little uneasy, but all he had to do was look at Merlin, even if it was to glare at him for throwing water, and the strange sensation of connection and purpose swelled in him again. He kept expecting it to unnerve him, but it didn't. He just had a reassuring sense of rightness.

'We'll head for the council chambers,' Arthur said, brushing aside his thoughts as he caught the other men looking expectantly at him. 'If my father is back to his old self then he will be in there organising the men.'

'I don't think an audience is a good idea,' Merlin said. 'Until we've convinced your father, the less the council members know the better.'

'Agreed. I'll ask my father to speak to me in private in the throne room. Merlin, you'll have to wait for me there. Lancelot…'

'Yes, Sire.'

'I want you to take Gaius and hide him in the lower town. If you can find Gwaine then ask him where his hiding place is, if not, anywhere you think is safe. Sythe will no doubt have guessed that you're involved by now,' Arthur said, turning to Gaius, 'you must stay hidden.'

'Yes, Sire,' Gauis nodded.

'Lancelot?'

'I would rather be fighting beside you and Merlin,' he said carefully.

'I know, and I would rather you were there, but I need you to get Gaius to safety. As soon as you've done that, you can come and find us.'

'Yes, Sire.'

Arthur nodded and made to leave, but was forced to stay put for a while long while Merlin force-fed him some food and water, this time keeping the liquid in the cup. Arthur had argued vehemently that having a late dinner wasn't his main concern at the moment, but Merlin had insisted that he get some decent food into him. Arthur had to admit that the minute he took the first bite his mouth watered and his stomach lurched in expectation. He realised that he was very hungry; after all, the meagre rations that Sythe had provided him with had hardly been filling.

While he ate, he questioned his friends on the events that he had missed. Most tallied with the visions that Sythe had put him through, but there were plenty that did not and Arthur listened as Merlin recounted finding the chest of magical items and books in the wardrobe and challenging the imposter in a brave -and, as he told Merlin, utterly stupid- move. He heard, from their point of view how they had gone about trying to lift the counter curse when they thought Merlin was having visions, how Gaius had researched and found the correct spell. Arthur purposely didn't ask too many questions about how Gaius had found it; it was always best to play dumb when it came to Gaius saving them from magical attacks through his knowledge. He heard about how Merlin, Gwaine and Lancelot had escaped and then returned, he heard about their discovery in the archives and finally about the potion they had just used to lift the counter curse.

'So, no more visions?'

'No, you're free of them,' Gaius assured him.

'I can't thank you all enough for what you've done,' he muttered, feeling the usual self consciousness that he tended to when he tried to show gratitude.

'It's Merlin who you have to thank, my Lord,' Lancelot told him gently. 'It's his plans and ideas that we've been following.'

'I know,' Arthur nodded, looking over at Merlin. Again he was hit with the sense of purpose and destiny that had been humming in the back of his mind since he'd learnt that his friend was alive. Now he was looking at him with a ghost of a smile on his face. 'Thank you.'

'You're welcome,' he nodded. 'I'd be out of a job if you were dead, anyway.'

Arthur laughed to himself and shook his head. Trust Merlin to lighten the mood so abruptly. For all his harping on about Arthur not being able to handle feelings, he certainly threw in a fair number of inappropriate comments in these emotionally charged moments.

'You can thank me by finishing all that food,' he added. Arthur gave him what he hoped was a stern look, but continued eating.

'Are you happy now?' Arthur asked Merlin pointedly as he finished the last mouthful. 'Or do you want to draw me a bath while you're there as well?'

'Believe me Arthur, if we had time, a bath would be the first thing I'd make you have.'

'What's that supposed to mean?' Arthur asked him, but he knew that Merlin had a point. Two weeks locked away had done nothing to improve his hygiene.

'You've smelt better. For now a wash will have to do.' He held up a basin and a cloth and pointed at his room. 'If you want to convince your father that you're you, then you need to look the part.'

'This is what I look and smell like after two weeks of being imprisoned,' Arthur protested, but he took the offered items and disappeared into Merlin's room. It would be good to feel a little fresher.

'See, you've just got to know how to handle him,' he heard his friend say through the door. It took all Arthur's self restraint not to go and throw the bowl of washing water in Merlin's face.

A few minutes later, a cleaner Arthur found himself strolling purposely through the castle. Lancelot had taken Gaius to safety and Merlin was making his way, hopefully subtly, to the throne room to wait for Arthur and Uther. The thought of Merlin wandering around the castle dressed up as a guard unnerved Arthur somewhat -there was no end to the ways that his manservant could get himself into trouble- but there was nothing else they could do. Walking into the council rooms with a supposed fugitive would be far too dangerous. Yes, Merlin may well be in disguise, but all of the council members and Uther himself would be able to recognise him if they looked closely enough. It just wasn't worth the risk.

And so, Arthur found himself winding his way towards the council chambers on his own, taking an obscure path through the castle's corridors and chambers so as to avoid running into Sythe. Lancelot had done a quick check before he left with Gaius to try and determine where the sorcerer was and the majority of the guards had believed he was in the lower town, but still Arthur didn't want to take any risks. He didn't want to meet Sythe on his travels; he was fairly certain he knew how that encounter would end and it wouldn't be with him as the victor. The only other danger was that someone would run into Sythe and then him in quick succession; he just had to hope that the chaos across the city would stop people from noticing that their prince could seemingly move from one place to another with incredible speed.

At last, the council chambers came into view. The guards spotted him from some way off and opened the door. He wished they hadn't. It wasn't that he didn't want to speak to his father, but the last time he had seen him, he had been withering away in his chambers, unresponsive to all attempts to coax him out of his lethargy. Now, he would be able to see his father again, really see him, for the first time in months. There were so many other things that he wanted to say to him, but they would have to wait.

It was easy to spot his father as he strolled into the council rooms. He was at the head of the table, his voice strong and sure as he coordinated the search efforts; knights and nobles hurrying out of the hall to pass on their King's wishes. Arthur felt like he had stepped back in time; in fact, for a moment, he wished he had.

Bur suddenly his father looked up. His expression smoothed as he caught sight of his son and Arthur wondered whether he was displeased that the search efforts had so far been unsuccessful. Not meeting up to his father's expectations; that definitely felt like stepping back in time.

'Father,' he began as soon as he reached the man. The council member who had been talking to the King bowed and moved back towards the others.

'Have the searches revealed anything?'

'No, Father, they have not, but there is something more pressing that I need to talk to you about.'

'More pressing than the current state of the city?' Uther asked, surveying the map of the town once again and studying it intently.

'Yes, Father. I need to speak to you in private in the throne room.'

The King looked up at him, evidently annoyed at the interruption, but he nodded his head and indicated that Arthur should lead the way. Arthur did so quickly, taking a lesser used route towards the room, but he stopped after only a few metres when he realised that his father had signalled four guards to tail them.

'Father, this must be done in private.'

'There are imposters roaming through Camelot unchecked; it is prudent to have guards with us at all times for now.' Arthur felt the sharpness of his father's words lash him viciously. This was the version of his father that he struggled with the most; the cold, overbearing man who would criticise with a tone or a gesture so much more effectively than with direct words; that man had been less vocal in recent years, but Arthur recognised him easily now. Perhaps he didn't have his father back after all; perhaps this person was just a ghost, resurrected by the extreme events in Camelot and soon to be buried again when this situation was over.

Arthur wanted to argue the point further, but decided that keeping his father onside was a better plan for now. As soon as he had convinced his father of the truth, all the guards and knights would know about Sythe anyway. Besides, when Merlin turned up in the throne room, it would probably keep his father calmer if there were guards at his beck and call. Arthur was hoping, however, that it wouldn't come to that.

The walk to the council room was full of a tension that Arthur knew wasn't just about the situation unfolding in Camelot. It went deeper than that and he could feel it swelling through his own chest with every step they took. At any moment he expected Sythe to appear and attack them all with magic. The whole success of their plan relied on being one step ahead of the sorcerer and the longer they waited the more likely it seemed that the man would figure out exactly what they were planning on doing and bring his own city wide attack crashing down on them ahead of schedule. Without their armies mustered and the city fortified against him, they wouldn't stand a chance. When it came to sorcerers, brute force was the only real option available; that and hoping Gaius could come up with some fantastic non-magical solution to help them defeat their enemy.

Finally, they slipped in through one of the back entrances to the throne room. Arthur never liked being in there when it was so empty; it reminded him of times he had been told off or had to listen to bad news coming in. Of course, a lot of the time he got told off and had bad news coming in when the room was full of people, but it was the loneliness of the empty throne room that really got to him; a loneliness that kept on creeping up on him when he thought about being King. He looked up as they entered and saw Merlin already standing by the main doors. Despite himself, he smiled. Being King might be lonely, but he would have Gwen and Merlin and the knights by him; it would be a bearable loneliness with them present.

'Guard, why are you here?' Uther demanded, the moment he caught sight of Merlin. The other four guards took up positions at the bottom of the steps on either side of the throne, while Uther remained standing in front of it, every bit the fierce King he had been in days gone by.

'Actually, Father,' Arthur began, moving down to the bottom of the steps and facing the throne, 'he's with me.' He nodded at Merlin who moved forwards and stood just behind him.

'And can you tell me why you wished for the guards I brought to be sent away, while you had your own in here already?'

'Yes, I can, but it will take time and you must listen to what I am saying,' Arthur told him seriously. His father's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he said nothing else, so Arthur nodded to Merlin who hesitantly took his helmet off.

Uther showed very little shock as Merlin was revealed to him. His face grew hard and he stiffened slightly, but other than that he showed no reaction. Arthur decided to take that as a good sign, but was relatively sure that it was a very bad one; a suspicion that was soon confirmed.

'Guards!' he shouted.

'Father, wait-' Arthur tried.

'Arrest them!'

Arthur had opened his mouth to explain, but found that no words came out at his father's instruction. _Them? Arrest them?_

'Father?' he asked in shock as two guards approached him, locking his hands behind his back. He glanced over at Merlin who looked equally confused as the second pair of guards reached him. 'What's the meaning of this?' He easily shook of the men, who would have tried to catch hold of him again, but for Uther's subtle shake of the head.

'Why are you here, _Arthur_?'

Arthur heard the cutting tone in his father's voice, but it only served to make him angry.

'To tell you something; something important!' he replied firmly, his eyes hard.

'Oh, yes? Would that be that you have been imprisoned by an imposter version of yourself and that your manservant was only ever acting in your best interests?' The sarcasm that ran throughout his question sent a chill through Arthur. He looked over at Merlin again whose face showed a similar fear. Something had gone wrong, they'd missed something.

'How do you know that?' he asked.

'Because my son has already told me,' he replied.

There was movement from the corner of the room and Sythe appeared from one of the side doors. His clothes were dirty and there was blood on them. He looked pale and his face was bruised.

After a nod from Uther, the guards grabbed Arthur again, but this time he was too stunned to fight. He glared at Sythe as he walked to stand beside the King, acting every part the injured and recently escaped Prince.

'I told you they would try to fool you, Father,' he said coldly, surveying Merlin and Arthur with deep hatred.

'Yes my son, you did,' Uther nodded, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Arthur could only look at the two of them in numb shock and inwardly curse himself for walking right into another of Sythe's traps. Only this time, there was no vision for him to wake up from. This was his reality.

He had just become the imposter.

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	18. Chapter 18

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews. It's great to know that people are enjoying it so much! Here's the next chapter! Please let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 18**

'He's the imposter!'

Arthur's voice was the first thing that managed to break through the shock that had temporarily taken over Merlin's body when Sythe had walked in, once again fooling everybody into believing that he was the Prince. Merlin looked over at his friend to see the anger and disbelief on his face.

'Guards!' Uther called again.

'No!' Arthur shouted and Merlin desperately wanted to tell him to calm down. Making Uther angry was a sure way of making him deaf to all reasoning. 'No! I'm your son. That man is a sorcerer called Sythe.'

'Silence!' Uther shouted at him, taking several menacing steps towards Arthur, his eyes flashing with rage. 'I know exactly who you are and what you two have done to my son, and you will pay with your lives.'

'He's lying to you!' Arthur said through gritted teeth.

'You've lost Sythe,' Sythe said, stepping up beside Uther and addressing his counterpart. Merlin saw the strain in Arthur as he tried to get away from his captors, but this time they held him firmly. 'I escaped from your prison and you will never have the Kingdom. Camelot will be safe from your tyranny.' Merlin had to admit that Sythe's impersonation was flawless. Everything he said, the tone he used, the way he moved; absolutely everything was exactly as Arthur would do. And Sythe knew this. He was baiting Arthur into loosing control, knowing that Uther would see it as confirmation that Arthur wasn't really his son.

And it was working. Merlin could see that Arthur's control was quickly slipping. He thought about what Sythe had done to Arthur; thought about how much the Prince had suffered. His anger at Sythe was already deeply embedded and this was only making it stronger and more potent. Arthur was exhausted, drained and desperate. He was close to loosing it completely. That would only strengthen Sythe's position. So Merlin decided that he had to do something.

'Why are you doing this?' he asked, Sythe. 'Why Camelot? What do you hope to gain?'

'Do not try and work your manipulative words with me, Merlin,' Sythe spat, turning on him with such a familiar glare that he forgot, for a moment, that he didn't have to worry if this Arthur was angry with him; not for the same reasons anyway.

'You _are_ the expert in that,' Merlin told him.

'How dare you speak to my son like that!' Uther raged.

'Sire,' Merlin began, deciding at this point that things couldn't get much worse. 'This is not your son.'

'Silence!'

'If I was the imposter,' Arthur interrupted, 'and Merlin was working with me, why would I say that he tried to kill me? Why would I risk his execution?'

There was a calmness in him, at least temporarily. He seemed to have reigned in some of his fury to try and focus on convincing his father of the truth. Merlin waited to see what Uther's response to the question would be; Arthur was making a very good point, one which the King would be hard pressed to refute, but one look at Sythe's face told Merlin that he had already covered that particular aspect. Whatever story he had fed to Uther was watertight.

'Don't try to twist your tale into something it isn't. I know that you sent Merlin to kill Arthur, intending to take his place before the alarm could be raised. And when that failed and the boy ran off, your only choice was to capture my son and take his place while he was still alive in the hopes of saving your accomplice.'

'You have been told nothing but lies,' Arthur told him fiercely, 'If Merlin had been sent to kill me, why would the sorcerer suddenly decide to imprison me instead?'

'Because you, _sorcerer,_ are corrupted and led by the evil in your heart!' Uther shouted. 'Once you had taken his place, you chose to torment my son with visions and hallucinations as part of your twisted games. I have been told everything.' His tone was firm; there was no sway in it, no movement from the opinion he held.

'That isn't true, Father!' Arthur argued, his desperation beginning to show through again.

'And your accomplice threatened my life as well,' he continued, as if he hadn't heard Arthur. 'He claimed that he had powerful friends who would be helping him.' Merlin glanced at Arthur to see the Prince glaring at him. He shrugged sheepishly; there wasn't much he could do about that now. It had seemed like a good plan at the time. 'And you are a powerful friend; though not powerful enough to bring down this household.'

'I'm your son! He's the sorcerer. Look!' He tried to shake off his guards again, but they were relentless. 'You want proof, then I'll give you proof. There are gashes around my waist where I have been chained for the last two weeks, not a few days as this traitor says. My hands,' and at this he held them up, just managing to twist his arms against the guards' grip. The injuries on them, though helped my Gaius' ministrations, certainly looked painful, 'are blistered from where I tried to pull the chain loose.'

'You use the very injuries you inflicted on me as false proof?' Sythe asked in fury. 'You take the own evil of your hand and use it to try and turn my father against me.'

'He is not your father!'

'They are not your wounds. They're mine.' With that he lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal a bandage all the way around his middle and, underneath it, deep lesions that could easily be evidence of being chained. He held out his hands and they were blistered raw.

Merlin didn't know whether the injuries were real or simply an illusions, but he could feel the sinking feeling encompassing his body, could sense the despair that was swirling around himself and Arthur. Every turn they took was blocked by Sythe's lies and manipulations. How could they fight those when the truth looked so false by comparison? Merlin didn't know what to do; he hadn't got a clue how to fight Sythe on this one. Uther's mind was made up and when that was the case it was almost impossible to get him to change it.

Sythe had played on the King's deepest fears, that his son had been hurt and captured. The sorcerer had made his way to Uther, no more than an hour or so ago, feigning hurt and horror, and used everything to stir the man's emotions and gain his trust. He had showed the King a son who had been mistreated, he had played on Uther's pride and guilt that he had not recognised the difference and had made sure that the man would turn all that anger and hurt and fear onto his real son, never giving Arthur's explanation a moment's thought. Gaius had said that Sythe was clever, that he could manipulate and take on a role, but Merlin was only now beginning to understand how detrimental those skills could truly be. All Sythe had to do was continue to play his part and drive Arthur mad with the injustice of it and he would win. Uther would execute his son and pave the way for Sythe's takeover.

Unless…Merlin's mind raced. Perhaps there was a way to show who Sythe really was. Memories. Memories that Sythe would have no knowledge of. If Arthur could engage Uther in a conversation about the past, about things that they had shared and done when Arthur was a child then Sythe would have no knowledge that would give him credibility. Merlin opened his mouth to make the suggestion, but before he could utter a word, Arthur was speaking again, his words directed at Sythe.

'I challenge you to a duel.'

'Arthur,' he whispered warningly.

'No, Merlin,' he snapped back, before turning to his father. 'You have watched me fight since I was a boy. You know how I fight. If you want proof that I'm your son then watch me in battle.'

Merlin couldn't help but think that this was a bad idea. Arthur was exhausted. He had not eaten properly for days, he was injured and he was emotional. Sometimes his anger gave him a battle clarity that was deadly, but today Merlin knew it would only serve to make his focus slip.

'Arthur,' he tried again, but the Prince didn't even look at him, instead his eyes were fixed on Sythe. Merlin followed his gaze and, for the first time, saw the slightest flicker of uncertainty on the man's face. He covered it quickly of course, but Merlin realised that Arthur had just gained the upper hand, a precarious one, of that there was no doubt, but the upper hand nonetheless. Because now Sythe had only one choice. He had to accept Arthur's challenge for one simple reason: Arthur Pendragon would never turn down a challenge of a duel regardless of who it came from or whether he was injured.

'A duel with a sorcerer is never a fair fight,' Uther told him. 'You will use magic.'

'I do not possess magic because I am your son,' Arthur said calmly but firmly. 'And even if I was the imposter, using magic would only destroy my disguise. Nobody will be using magic in this duel,' Arthur said, his gaze sliding to Sythe. Merlin saw the man's jaw clench slightly, but he soon regained his composure.

'You will die by my hand, sorcerer,' he said, lifting his head in defiance to Arthur's words. His tone seemed sure, but there was some uncertainty in the way he held himself. Maybe this would work. But still, Merlin felt some unease at this current path. Both Lancelot and Gwaine had agreed that Sythe could fight and that he could do so well. It wouldn't matter if his fighting style didn't quite match up to Arthur's if he did actually succeed in killing him, and in the Prince's current state that was a distinct possibility. Trust Arthur to want to solve a problem by swinging a sword. Merlin's solution would have been so much more peaceful.

But there was nothing for it now, both Arthur's had agreed and Merlin could see that Uther was about to give his consent for the fight; he had utmost faith in Arthur's fighting abilities and he would be able to tell whether it was his son. That meant that Sythe would be backed into a corner and revealed at a time that he hadn't chosen. That would most definitely make him mad.

'Arthur, I'm not sure that this-'

'Merlin, shut up,' Arthur told him warningly. Merlin snapped his mouth shut as he caught sight of the look on Uther's face. He thought Merlin's protest were to do with the fact that he didn't believe that his Arthur could keep up the pretence during a fight. It was giving strength to Sythe's story once again.

Eventually Uther nodded.

'Very well. You will fight and your treachery will be clear. My son will defeat you.' His eyes never left Arthur while he was speaking. He turned to Sythe, a look passing between the two of them: Uther wordlessly asking if he wanted to do this and Sythe nodding back with a resolve that Merlin had seen on Arthur's face hundreds of times in the past.

The guards who had been holding Arthur released him and went to stand beside Uther, while Merlin's captors pulled him towards the side of the room. Merlin tried to keep his face neutral, but he knew his unease was showing through; it was evident in the smug look that Uther directed his way before turning his attention to the fight.

Both Arthurs had discarded their cloaks and moved towards each other, circling slowly as they drew their swords like mirror images. Merlin knew how the battle would start; even he could mimic Arthur's usual opening move; Sythe would have no problems acting the part for now. It was when they got into the heat of battle that the deception would hopefully begin to fall apart. Sure enough, the two Arthur's raised their swords level with their shoulders, pointing forwards, both hands on the hilts and their bodies turned towards each other

It was Arthur who made the first move…just. The moment Sythe saw him take a step forward he did the same, so that they met in the middle in a dangerous clash as their swords were thrust forwards. Both were forced to turn their opponent's sword away and both broke apart, moving to the sides. As they did so, the two swords were swung once around the men's wrists in unison -Arthur's standard refocusing move- while the two men remained upright, their eyes firmly on each other. Merlin's sense of unease began to increase. Had he not known which was the real Arthur, he would have been hard pressed to pick him out. Perhaps Sythe had studied Arthur's fighting style more studiously than they had first believed.

The battle began again as both men started a second charge; this time their attacks were a series of short stabs that knocked them both back several times. And then suddenly Arthur stumbled. Merlin clenched his fists at his sides. What had happened? But as Arthur backed up, Merlin saw him touch his side gingerly; Sythe had caught him with the hilt of his sword as Arthur had tried a wide swing. Sythe pressed his advantage with a set of moves that Merlin had seen all the knights, including Arthur, use before on several occasions. Arthur on the other hand was forced to defend against the fierce attack in a series of clumsy parries as Sythe attacked him from countless different angles, forcing him to try and compensate balance and positioning after every one. The winces of pain on Arthur's face made Merlin aware that Sythe was also forcing Arthur to aggravate the wounds on his sides as he moved to block the blows. This was not going well.

Merlin looked at Uther; it was evident that the fight was only confirming his ideas. From where he was straining against Sythe's attack, Arthur suddenly gave a yell and forced the man back, executing a series of lighting fast attacks that he was well known for. He was relentless, even as his breathing became ragged and his face dripped with sweat. Sythe managed to hold his own, but he had lost the upper hand and his parries now lacked some of the style and precision that had come to be expected from Arthur Pendragon.

Had Arthur been at full health, that particular continued attack would have been all that was necessary to defeat Sythe, but Arthur wasn't at full health. Merlin could see the signs of fatigue as he fought. His face was pained and he grimaced frequently, taking shallow breaths in between his attacks and closing his eyes every now and then against the pain. His hands began to shake on his sword and Merlin could see the tracks of blood -from the now opened blisters- that were beginning to colour the hilt. He was tiring fast and Sythe was not.

The man saw the weakness beginning to claim Arthur and pressed forward once again, almost mimicking exactly the moves that Arthur had just employed, forcing the Prince back across the room, while Uther watched with a deep satisfaction. Merlin's unease blossomed into fully fledge fear as he saw Arthur begin to loose grip on his weapon for a split second. Every step he took now seemed to elicit some sort of pained reaction on his face.

He was going to loose.

Merlin realised it at about the same time he knew Arthur had, because, for a split second, the Prince looked over at him, grief in his features, frustration, a despair that was so easy to read. But then it cleared and his face smoothed out. He blocked Sythe's last blow with a cry that was partly to do with increasing strength and partly to do with releasing some of the agony he was in. He swung several powerful blows that caused Sythe to stagger back several paces, but still it would not be enough.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin did the only thing that he could think to do. He whispered the words of a spell that would hopefully buy them the time they needed. He kept his head bowed to hide his eyes and kept his voice to a whisper that was impossible to hear against the sounds of the fight.

Instantly, black mist flooded the room, as if it they had all been sucked up into dark thunder clouds. A sudden silence encompassed the room and Merlin felt his guards move opposite ways to each other as they moved to get away from what they no doubt perceived to be a magical attack. The difference in their directions meant that Merlin could twist away from their grip. He heard their muffled voices shout, but he was gone, running through the thick cloud blindly, trying to head for the spot where Arthur had just been.

'Guards!' Uther's voice seemed far off in the fog. 'Get them now!'

Merlin continued to run; his hands stretched out in front of him, before he ran headlong into somebody, knocking them to the floor. He prayed desperately that he had calculated the distance accurately and then put his face close to the other person's. Arthur's face, complete with utter exhaustion, swam into view and that was all it took to shift Merlin into action.

'Run,' he whispered. For once, Arthur didn't need telling twice. He accepted Merlin's hand and allowed himself to be pulled up as they heard the shouts of Sythe close by. He was angry, that was for sure, but he was also confused, completely taken by surprise. Of course he was, Merlin thought reluctantly; someone had just used magic and it hadn't been him. Merlin felt the gnawing uncertainty of having revealed his magic to Sythe, for surely the man would guess, but it had been necessary.

Keeping one hand on Arthur's shoulder, Merlin pushed him forward to where the main entrance was; it was the closest exit available to them.

He had only taken three steps when he felt it; the slice of metal across the back of his leg. It wasn't too deep and it definitely wasn't deadly, but Merlin cried out in pain and, on instinct, turned and unleashed a burst of magic in the direction if his attacker. It had to have been Sythe, but the cover of the black fog was so complete that it was impossible to confirm with his own eyes. In the darkness, Arthur hadn't seen the use of magic, but he had heard Merlin's cry.

'Merlin?' he asked in alarm; his voice was close by, but Merlin could only just make out his face; it was full of concern.

'I'm fine, just go. I think it's forwards.'

They pressed ahead quickly. Merlin hissed with every step he took. The sword had caught him on the bottom of his leg, drawing a line of fire down from his knee to the top of his ankle. It hurt.

Soon, however, Merlin all but ran into Arthur as the Prince banged straight into the door. The two of them searched frantically for the metal handles that usually held the wooden beam; all the while hearing the muffled shouts of confusion and anger from the other people in the room. It was evident that at least a couple of them were heading towards them. Eventually, Merlin's hands closed around one of the metal protrusions and he gave it an almighty pull, Arthur joining him as soon as he got a grip on it.

The door swung open and they both rushed through it, slamming it back into place. Merlin gasped as the jarring movement shuddered along his injury.

'We need to go,' he breathed at Arthur. He nodded, turning Merlin around and pushing him forward. Merlin gritted his teeth against the pain in his leg and tried to run in the direction Arthur had faced him, but his leg was struggling to hold his weight. Seeing this, Arthur looped Merlin's arm around his shoulder, providing him with the extra balance and support that he needed. They said nothing to each other, but the grim expressions on both their faces spoke enough about how hopeless they felt.

They pressed on in a stumbling walk, but no sooner had they rounded the corner then they ran into two guards coming the other way. Merlin wasn't sure how their situation could get any worse. Did these guards know; had an alarm been raised? Had Uther let anyone else know about the 'imposter'?

Arthur was not in a position to fight his way out of this. He was barely able to run in a straight line.

'Did we miss all the fun?'

Merlin frowned at the words and looked up at the guard who had uttered them, breathing heavily. Relief flooded through him as he saw Gwaine's grinning face obscured beneath the helmet. Next to him was Lancelot, concern being the main emotion on his. Behind them the door to the throne room opened.

'Run?' Gwaine suggested.

None of them argued.

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	19. Chapter 19

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thank you for all the reviews. There's a little bit of respite for the boys in this chapter and some bromance-esk chats (they are the best bits of the show!); it's hard to fit them in when they're constantly running for their lives! Anyway, let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 19**

Arthur lost track of where he was and had no idea where he was heading as they raced through Camelot. His side was burning from the duel with Sythe, his hands were bleeding and his heart was raging against the utter injustice of the situation. How could his father not know who his own son was? How, after such a long time of being completely shut away from the rest of the world, could his father re-emerge only to turn against him?

And how could Sythe continue to do this? How could he orchestrate his moves so perfectly; how could he read people so effortlessly and take advantage of their weaknesses with such ease? Every situation they found themselves in was under his control. He had known that they would head straight to the King. He had known and had remoulded his version of events around it. Arthur felt so angry, so foolish and so utterly helpless; a sentiment that only increased as he looked at where he was.

It seemed vaguely familiar, but it was evident that they were in a part of Camelot that Arthur didn't usually frequent. It was probably best that they were there however; the streets were crawling with soldiers and by now they likely knew that they were looking for an 'imposter'. It was doubtful that they would search in this area, not yet at least.

Getting out of the castle hadn't been too tricky in the end. There was so much confusion anyway, that the Prince and two soldiers aiding an injured man hadn't looked too suspicious. Merlin, of course, had been their biggest problem. His helmet had remained in the throne room and all they had to disguise him was the chainmail hood that should have been underneath it. It obscured his face somewhat, but not enough, and he was forced to keep his head low at all times. Arthur suspected that Merlin couldn't have done much else; he was in a lot of pain with his leg and, even now as he looked at it, Arthur could see the blood seeping through the material of his breeches, dark and thick,

From the castle they had headed into the town, following Gwaine's direction. Arthur couldn't even begin to guess their destination, but Gwaine moved with such certainty that he soon became convinced that the man had a plan.

It was as the deep blue of dawn was seeping into the sky, however, that they finally came to a halt in a deserted street that was filled with rubbish and debris that Arthur didn't feel the need to inspect too closely. Gwaine stopped at last and gently slipped Merlin's arm from around his shoulder. Arthur quickly took his place, giving Merlin a questioning glance, which he responded to with a weak smile that did nothing to ease Arthur's concerns.

'Where are we?' Arthur asked him.

'The secret entrance to my hide out,' Gwaine grinned. 'Don't think you're the only person who knows about secret passages.'

'We're in an alley that is knee-high in filth,' Arthur argued through gritted teeth.

'No,' Gwaine told him matter-of-factly, walking over to a pile of rotting timber and feeling around in between it. 'We're right next to the door which leads to the cellar of The Midnight Moon Tavern.'

'The Midnight Moon?' Merlin asked, anxiously. Arthur couldn't help but agree; it didn't have the best reputation in the world.

'It's not as bad as everybody says,' Gwaine said, waving a hand at them.

'Regardless,' Arthur replied, deciding that it wasn't worth arguing the merits of Camelot's taverns, 'the first place the guards will look when searching a tavern is the cellar.'

'Not this one, Sire,' Lancelot said, his expression grim.

'Why not?' he asked, his eyes narrowing at Gwaine.

'Well, let's just say that this cellar is for more…specialised wares.'

'Meaning?'

'Meaning, there are some things in here that you wouldn't want just anybody buying,' Gwaine grinned.

'A black market?' Merlin breathed. Arthur felt his eyes widen in shock and he looked across to Lancelot who was looking decidedly uncomfortable.

'Camelot doesn't have a black market,' he said slowly to Gwaine, his teeth gritted.

'And let's keep members of the royal family thinking that,' the knight grinned at him. 'Ah ha!' A clicking sound emanated from where Gwaine's hand was still buried in the woodpile and with effort he pulled upwards. The logs, which had seemed to all intents and purposes to be a rickety pile of dead wood, lifted up as one, evidently stuck together. Underneath were several thick boards of wood, which Arthur could now see did indeed make up the door to a cellar.

'See: safe and sound,' Gwaine muttered. Arthur moved forward, dragging Merlin with him, but his friend seemed just as interested in the truly illegal entrance in front of them. Arthur turned to Gwaine and opened his mouth to deliver a speech, but the knight beat him to it. 'Just so you know,' he began, 'the owner happens to be a good friend of mine and I promised him that if he let me use his cellar nothing bad would come of it.'

'He is running a black market in Camelot, selling who knows what to who knows who,' Arthur said fiercely.

'Yes, that is true, but he is also keeping a certain young lady safe from harm and sheltering several wanted fugitives, including, _Sire,_ you,' he pointed out cheerfully. Arthur opened his mouth to argue once again, but found his reply sadly lacking. 'Just as I thought,' Gwaine said, clapping him on the back.

They climbed down the ladders to the cellar –Merlin with difficulty- and made their way down a short sloping tunnel which was boarded with panels of wood. The tunnel was too narrow for them to walk three in a row and so Arthur told Lancelot to walk ahead. The knight offered to help Merlin, but Arthur shook his head; helping Merlin was the least he could do. As they got to the end of the shaft, the glow of candles whispered up the tunnel to meet them and, for the first time in what felt like weeks, Arthur felt himself begin to relax. Beside him, Merlin's reaction seemed to be a similar one and he suddenly let more of his weight fall onto Arthur's shoulder.

They struggled forward and found themselves in a low ceilinged, but large room. Piled up on all sides were crates and barrels that Arthur guessed it would be best for him to ignore. The floor was covered with old, worn flagstones, while the walls were framed with thick timber which created a support for the wood panelled ceiling. The walls in between the timber pillars were nothing more than compacted earth. Arthur couldn't think of another time when he'd been in a place that could so easily collapse on him.

But despite all of the things around him, there was one thing that Arthur's gaze was drawn to…one person.

Guinevere. She was lying on one of the old fraying mattresses that had evidently been lugged down here for the guests. She looked peaceful as she slept, her dark hair flowing out behind her and a few curls escaping to frame her face. A thin blanket was spread over her and a candle was on the floor beside the bed. In a rickety old chair next to her sat Gaius; his stance protective, even with his eyes closed as he drifted.

'Go on,' he heard Merlin whisper. 'I can stand.' Arthur nodded gratefully, but still moved over to the wall so that Merlin could support himself; he didn't trust Merlin's opinion on whether or not he could stand up; Arthur had seen him fall over enough times when there was nothing wrong with him, let alone when his leg had been sliced open.

Happy that Merlin wouldn't crash to the floor, Arthur laid a hand on his shoulder and then moved over to where Gwen lay sleeping. Gaius woke and smiled in relief and welcome as he saw him approach. Arthur's frustration and anger eased by the tinniest amount at the simple gesture; there were still people out there who believed in him and knew him for who he was.

As Arthur gently sat on the mattress, the old physician headed over to Merlin, his medicine bag already in hand.

But Arthur's focus was entirely on Gwen. He saw her stir and an expectation filled him. He felt his heart race and his chest tighten at the thought of seeing her eyes open; looking at him. How he had missed her. How he had needed her in those darkest of moments: her counsel, her steadiness, her faith.

Her eyes opened and met his own easily. For a moment she just smiled, as if it was a normal day and Arthur had come to visit her, but then the shock registered, the disbelief. And then the understanding and joy. She sat up quickly, her hand reaching up to touch his face, and then she threw her arms around him, pulling him tightly to her. Arthur's arms slipped around her waist as he buried his head in her hair, kissing the side of her neck and breathing her in.

'I'm sorry,' he heard her murmur into his shoulder; her voice shook slightly and Arthur pulled her tighter.

'Don't,' he breathed.

'I should have known,' she whispered, pulling back and looking at him. Her hands stayed on his face, her fingers gently brushing through his hair. He moved into her touch, the familiarity and tenderness of it soothing the roughness that had formed in him during his imprisonment.

'No one knew,' he told her, kissing her forehead. 'Sythe is clever, an expert. He fooled everyone.'

'I should have known.'

Arthur lifted her chin and kissed her on the lips.

'It's alright.'

She gave him a sad but genuine smile and then locked her hands in his, but at his wince she frowned and then looked down.

'Arthur, your hands!' she said in alarm.

'Yeah,' he nodded, grimacing.

'Gaius,' she called, looking up, but Arthur saw her face fall as she caught sight of Merlin. 'What happened?'

'Just a little accident with a sword,' Merlin winced, from where he now lay on his stomach on a second mattress, Gaius treating his injuries deftly. There was no hesitation in the way he administered the salves and wrapped the bandages. In a matter of minutes, Merlin was sitting with his back against the wall, his leg bandaged and his eyes closed in exhaustion. It was only then that Arthur realised how little Merlin had eaten or rested in the last few days. He had been in the dungeons, then on the run, then carrying out the rescue and finally going to see Uther. Arthur was surprised he'd made it this far without collapsing in exhaustion.

'Arthur,' Gwen said gently. 'What happened with your father?'

Arthur took a deep breath and then realised that he had nothing to say. He shook his head. Gwen understood instantly; she hugged him once again and Arthur let his whole existence come down to the sensation of feeling her close to him.

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Merlin couldn't sleep.

It was ridiculous really. He felt completely exhausted, but no matter how long he lay there with his eyes closed imagining being asleep and blissfully unaware, he couldn't quite manage to make it a reality. It wasn't as if he even had the excuse of being uncomfortable. His injury had meant that he was one of the privileged few who had managed to get a mattress, the others being Gwen and Arthur –Gaius having treated his injuries again-, who had accepted it under duress from everyone except Gwaine who instead decided to tease Arthur about special treatment. A glare from Gwen, however, had soon shut him up.

But mattress or no mattress, Merlin still wasn't able to sleep. The conversation that they had all had earlier was playing on his mind.

There was no doubt that hope was beginning to fade, along with any ideas as to how to bring it back. Arthur had said very little, leaving the talk to Lancelot, Gwaine and Gaius for the most part. Their conversation went round in circles. Merlin felt his own frustration building as it went on, but soon that frustration turned into a terrible sense of inevitability. A plan was beginning to form in the back of his mind, a plan that he wasn't sure would work, but was fast becoming the only option that Merlin could see. Frequently as their planning reached dead ends, Merlin had seen Lancelot and Gaius glancing over at him, trying to be subtle, trying to remain unnoticed, but Merlin had seen them nonetheless.

And he understood why he was on their mind. Their usual tactics would not work now. Arthur could, possibly, convince many knights and soldiers that he was the true Prince of Camelot. Certainly the fact that Merlin, Gwaine, Lancelot and no doubt the other Knigths of the Round Table were backing him would cause many of the fighters to question who their allegiance was currently to. But then again, that depended on what tale Sythe had spun to them.

But even if Arthur managed to muster a small force, they would still have to fight against the King of Camelot, which amounted to treason, and no doubt Uther's force would be much bigger, not to mention the fact that Sythe was a very powerful sorcerer who had yet to unleash his true magical potential. If anything, a battle would be the perfect opportunity for him to complete his takeover. He could ensure that Uther was killed in the fighting, use the rest of his force to track down Arthur and any supporters and then he would be home and dry to begin his tyrannical reign over Camelot. Nobody would ever find out that he was an imposter and the royal line would then continue through him.

Another attempt at convincing Uther seemed like foolish plan, one that was bound to end badly, and taking on Sythe individually was considered, by the group, to be a sure way to die quickly. Merlin wasn't completely convinced that the outcome would be any different for him. He hadn't had chance to speak to Gaius yet to see if he'd discovered anything that could help against Sythe.

No, things were not looking good and Merlin had watched Arthur grow more and more withdrawn as time wore on. Merlin could almost see what was in his mind, could see him watching his family line disappear, his own father die believing that a sorcerer was his son, saw his people's dark future stretching out ahead. Arthur was fine if he had a plan; if he didn't, he struggled not to sink into guilty recriminations and bleak despair.

Behind him, Merlin heard Arthur stir; he had done that a lot over the past few hours and Merlin wasn't sure if his sleep was restless or if he too was finding it hard to come by. More movement confirmed that his second theory was the correct one. There was the sound of the blanket being pushed back and the mattress rustling as Arthur got up. Merlin peered over his shoulder and saw Arthur looking around the dark room. All but one of the candles had burnt down and it gave the room a strangely comforting cosiness. It also gave the illusion of night which, of course, it wasn't. It was hard to guess, but Merlin thought that it could be as late as mid-day by now. Camelot would be awake and alert, which meant that they were all stuck here for the time being.

Thankfully, Gwaine's friend, Old John, had been supplying them with a steady stream of food via a tunnel opposite the one they'd come through to get to the room. Merlin assumed that the other passageway led to The Midnight Moon. The innkeeper had been understandably concerned when he saw the Prince of Camelot standing in his illegal storehouse, but Arthur had –with difficulty- accepted the help graciously and agreed to turn a blind eye for the man's services. The man in turn had agreed that Arthur was in fact the true Prince and had sworn that he wouldn't turn any of them in. It was a small relief.

Merlin watched as Arthur made his way towards the passageway that led out to the door of rotten logs. He doubted that the Prince was so far gone as to make a rash attempt at speaking to Uther again, but Merlin wanted to make sure that was the case and so, once Arthur had disappeared down the tunnel, Merlin followed, limping slightly, leaving the rest of the occupants sleeping.

As he headed towards the exit, Merlin met Lancelot coming the other way, evidently having agreed to swap watch duty with Arthur.

'How is he?' Merlin whispered.

'Lost…' he murmured after a few moments. Merlin nodded; there was no better way to describe Arthur's current state of mind. 'Merlin...Sythe is…' he began hesitantly.

'I know,' Merlin nodded. 'I know.'

Lancelot pressed a hand against his arm and then headed back to the room. Taking a deep breath, Merlin moved on.

A candle was still burning brightly by the tunnel exit and Arthur had lowered himself onto the floor next to it, his back against the wall. He ran his fingers quickly back and forth through the flame, not even looking up as Merlin approached. With difficulty –his leg having stiffened considerably over the past few hours despite the pain easing- Merlin slid down the wall as well until he was next to Arthur, the candle in between the two of them. There was silence for several moments. That was always the way he and Arthur began these conversations; ones that would mean something; ones that broke through the social barriers that they were constrained by the rest of the time. Well…some of the time anyway. It was as if they both needed to take a moment to shed their master-servant relationship and make sure their friendship was leading them forward.

'How's your leg?' Arthur asked eventually. He looked up briefly.

'No worse than what it's like after a day picking up after you.'

'I don't remember ever attacking you with a sword.'

'Really? Then I think your memory needs seeing to because I remember plenty of times.'

'Well I don't remember ever landing a blow,' he said instead.

'It's because my battle reflexes won't let you.'

'Merlin, you don't have any battle reflexes. You have run away reflexes.'

'I only ever run away when you do,' he countered smoothly.

'I don't run-'

'What do you want to call it then? When you graciously withdraw from a situation?'

Arthur paused for several seconds. 'No,' he replied, 'when I strategically manoeuvre.'

Merlin let out a small laugh which, he was glad to see, brought a smile to Arthur's face. It evaporated quickly, but Merlin was glad that at least a part of Arthur still felt something akin to happiness. They fell silent once more and Arthur stopped playing with the candle flame. He put his hands up to his face and rubbed it, sighing as he did.

'I don't understand any of this, Merlin. I don't understand Sythe or why he's doing this.'

'Gaius says that he likes to play games… to manipulate people,' Merlin said with a sigh. 'I don't think he's in this just for the power; he's drawing out the takeover…enjoying it.'

'Why would a person do that? How terrible must magic be that it turns people to such evil?'

Merlin felt the usual clench in his stomach whenever Arthur spoke of magic in that way. He hated the feeling; it felt like his insides were being twisted and turned. The words of denial and defence always sprang into his mouth and he had to swallow them back, pull them in; he had to ignore the terrible ache in his chest at the thought of what Arthur would do if he ever found out.

'Why did he use magic?' Arthur continued.

'What do you mean?'

'Which bit of magic from the last few hours or so do you think I'm talking about?' he asked incredulously. 'The black smoke in the room. Why did he do that?'

Merlin waited to see if Arthur actually wanted him to reply. Sometimes it was best to listen to the Prince's theory and just agree with it; he was much easier to convince if he thought his idea was correct.

'Merlin?'

'I don't know.'

'Why would he risk exposing himself? I mean during the fight I was…I mean, he…I was-'

'You were losing, Arthur,' Merlin finished for him.

'Yes, thank you, Merlin.'

'I mean, you were really losing,' he continued in a matter-of-fact voice, knowing that it would wind Arthur up and hopefully distract him from his thought process.

'Well next time, by all means, you can do the fighting.'

'Wouldn't want to show you up.' Arthur didn't even bother reply to him this time, just rolled his eyes, but he soon frowned in concentration again. Merlin decided to throw in the suggestion that he'd come up with as a cover.

'Maybe, he knew that you were going to lose and he wanted to draw it out for longer. Or maybe he wanted to convince Uther that you really were the sorcerer.' Arthur looked up at him and Merlin shrugged. 'Sythe knew that we'd run if the opportunity came up; he just made sure that we looked like the sorcerers when we did.'

'But he attacked you.'

'Well, he needed to play his part didn't he? That's all he does at the moment.'

Arthur considered the words for several seconds before nodding in agreement. He disappeared into a brooding silence that Merlin wasn't sure how to break. Pushing Arthur too soon wouldn't end well, but if Merlin didn't prompt him, there was the possibility that the Prince would sit in silence for hours. As it turned out, Arthur opened up of his own accord. Merlin saw the change on his face, saw the fear and the uncertainty.

'What do I do, Merlin? What _can_ I do?'

'We _will_ think of something,' Merlin tried, but Arthur just shook his head.

'We're hiding in here, waiting to be found. It'll happen eventually. And when it does-'

'It won't come to that. We've never let Camelot fall before. We're not going to start now.'

'I don't see how we can prevent it,' Arthur said, his voice filling with anger. 'My own father…' he tailed off, shaking his head and Merlin saw the way he steeled his face, the way he bit down on his emotions. 'The first time I see him like his old self again,' he began quietly, 'and he doesn't even know who I am; he believes I'm a traitor to be executed.'

'That's Sythe's lies. Your father loves you, Arthur,' Merlin told him firmly. 'And when this is over, he'll still be back to his old self. He'll see you again. Really see you.'

'How can this be over, Merlin? How do I end this? Do I…?' he stood up and began moving in the small space. '…do I lead the men loyal to me into a suicidal battle? Do I try and make my father understand? Do I engage Sythe directly? What do I do?' he asked, turning to Merlin.

And for once, Merlin had no words of wisdom for him, nothing he could say to make him feel better, no solution that he could give.

'I don't know,' he whispered. Something in Arthur faded at Merlin's words. Perhaps he had been hoping for some wisdom on the matter. He knew that Arthur frequently mocked him for his attempts at counsel, but he also knew that the Prince took them on board more often than not. Now, though, Merlin had no advice to give, no suggestions. None that Arthur could hear.

He sat back down, head in his hands.

'Arthur,' Merlin tried again.

'Merlin, don't…' he sighed.

'Listen,' he told him more firmly. He sighed again, but made no further objections. 'I don't know what we can do. I don't know how to get out of this, but I do know that no matter what happens, we will follow you to the end. Whatever you decide, you're not on your own.'

'At least if I was, it would spare the rest of you,' he muttered, characteristic recriminations resonating in him.

'You know as well as I,' Merlin told him with an edge of scolding in his voice, 'that none of us would be anywhere else but by your side.'

'Do I even deserve that loyalty?' Arthur asked him, a real vulnerability showing on his face; the weight and guilt of seeing friends sacrifice themselves for him.

'Most days,' Merlin told him with a grin. 'And today just happens to be one of them.'

Arthur stared at him for several seconds. His face showed little change, but Merlin could tell that it had been enough for now.

It would steel Arthur for a little longer and a little longer was all Merlin really needed.

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	20. Chapter 20

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! They're so much appreciated as always. Just to warn you in advance: I'm going away in a couple of weeks time, and the story won't be finished by then, so if I disappear for a while, that's why. Anyway, on with this chapter. Had fun writing Gwaine in this section. Please let me know what you think.

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**Chapter 20**

'Alright, I know that it's been a rough few hours,' Gwaine burst out suddenly as they were all eating a surprisingly good meal –it seemed the black market inn keeper had decided to keep his guests as happy as possible-, 'and I get that the whole Sythe-taking-over is tricky, but are either of you,' he nodded at Merlin and Arthur, 'going to ask how I set up all those distractions?'

Merlin couldn't manage to stifle a laugh at the petulant tone in the knight's voice; it reminded him of Arthur during his moods, not that he was going to voice that opinion; he didn't think either man would take kindly to it. He glanced over at Arthur who had paused mid bite at the accusing tone in Gwaine's voice. He swallowed slowly and then looked round at the others as if to check that the question was serious.

'Oh, yes,' Gwen nodded to him, a smile on her face. 'I've heard it three times already.'

'Very well,' Arthur said, a slight look of disbelief on his face before he switched to a smile of feigned interest, 'Gwaine, I've been dying to know how you set up all those distractions. I'm a particular fan of setting fire to Camelot and putting its citizens in danger through riots.'

Merlin couldn't help but grin at the cutting sarcasm, which Gwaine chose to ignore wholeheartedly.

'It was tricky, I'll tell you that, but I knew that the distraction had to be a good one.'

'Riots and fires?' Merlin ventured doubtfully.

'Well his highness doesn't deign to appear in the lower town for much less does he,' Gwaine pointed out. 'I needed to force Sythe down here to keep up pretences.'

'I come down to the lower town all the time!' Arthur protested. Gwaine just grinned at him and Merlin rolled his eyes; Arthur always let the knight bait him into arguing. On realising this, Arthur glared andthen gave a sigh of resignation, which Gwaine took as permission to continue his story.

'The fires were easy. I just picked a deserted part of the town –some old houses that were falling apart- and laid down the straw and oil, well the others helped me.'

'Others?' Merlin asked.

'Leon, Elyan, Percival. They were all in on it. It was almost impossible for me to convince them not to come and join us in our illegal black market cellar adventure, but I figured it would be better to have them on the inside.'

Merlin saw Arthur get a slightly faraway look in his eyes. They had tried to work out whether the other knights could somehow draw Sythe out or interfere with the sorcerer's plans, but it had seemed like a blind mission that would no doubt end badly, and the last thing Arthur wanted to do was send them into the battlefield while he was in hiding.

'So they started the riots as well?' Merlin asked.

'No of course not. Elyan in a bar fight!' He opened out his hands to Gwen for confirmation and she nodded.

'You started riots across the town singlehandedly?' Arthur asked him.

'I told you it was impressive.'

'It's not impressive! It's…' he blustered, but he didn't follow it up with anything else.

'Impressive,' Gwaine nodded. 'I started it off here; I'll admit that old John upstairs did give me a hand. Made sure he got all his rowdy regulars in to ensure it would spill over, but I did the ground work. A few rumours about other people that were drinking in The Rising Sun and the rest of the taverns, along with all the people in The Midnight, that sort of thing. I did my hooded disguise thing just to add to the mystery. They don't like people they don't know, caused plenty of mistrust. Threw one punch, blamed it on someone else and then sat back and watched.'

'And they just went and started fighting with everybody?' Arthur asked incredulously.

'Well, I told Leon to turn up and do his pompous act on them, which made them even worse, and I made sure that I got chased into a few of the other taverns as well, just so it would carry on. Mix that with Percival and Elyan sending the soldiers the wrong way and there you have it!' He clapped his hands together and took a bite of the huge chunk of bread in his hand. 'One brilliant distraction and probably the only reason you three made it out of the castle at all.'

'That _is_ quite impressive,' Merlin told him.

'Merlin!' Arthur told him sharply.

'Well it is! And it did save our lives.'

'A little gratitude would be good,' Gwaine added, looking pointedly at Arthur. Merlin watched the Prince give Gwaine a half exasperated, half deeply appreciative look before he eventually spoke.

'I am grateful,' he told him, a genuine tone in his voice. 'You gave us the time we needed.'

'My pleasure,' Gwaine replied. 'What else are the knights of Camelot for?'

This time everybody, with the exception of Arthur, who rolled his eyes, had to stifle their amusement, but the tale had served to lighten their mood somewhat, even if it was unlikely to last very long.

Soon they fell back into silence, and the monotony of the day began to fray tempers. Arthur, particularly, became quite angry and sharp. Merlin and Gwen did their best to try and level his emotions out, but eventually Gwen had to take charge of the task. Past a certain point, Arthur tended to use Merlin more as a vent for his emotions, throwing all Merlin's attempts at reassurance straight back in his face. Normally, Merlin could counter them and ignore them until he could push through the barrage of insults once more and speak to Arthur on a deeper level, but he was so tired at the moment that he couldn't endure Arthur's rants with his usual patience. Not when a plan was beginning to form fully in his mind, one that would likely cost him more than he could afford to give. And so he left Arthur to Gwen, knowing that she could soothe him in a way that no-one else could.

By nightfall –which they only knew because Old John came and told them- many of them, despite doing nothing, were ready to sleep. Arthur seemed to loose whatever secondary strength had kept him awake earlier that day and fell asleep quickly. Gwen, too, disappeared into dreams as soon as she lay down on the mattress.

Gwaine, who had been climbing the walls the entire day, had managed to convince Arthur to let him try and rendezvous with the other knights in the hope that they could give a clearer picture of what Sythe was doing in the castle. Gwaine had proven himself so skilled when it came to staying hidden that the Prince let him go with a lot less argument than Merlin had expected.

That left Gaius –who was on watch duty-, Lancelot and himself still awake which was what Merlin had been waiting for. Quietly, he picked up his guard helmet and then, with a nod of his head, signalled to Lancelot that they should go and join Gaius in the tunnel.

'Gwaine's not back yet then?' Merlin asked as they reached the end. Gaius was sat on a stool that had been provided for them by Old John. He seemed smaller somehow as he sat with his back hunched forward. He shook his head at the question.

'He'll be fine,' Lancelot said. 'Probably in a tavern somewhere.'

'Hopefully not starting another bar fight.'

The two of them sat down on the floor beside Gaius and silence crept up on them quickly as they all considered the best way to broach the next subject. Merlin decided that it was probably best if he was direct.

'I'm going to go after Sythe.'

It was a testament to how hopeless the situation was that both of them were silent for several seconds before they tried to talk him out of it.

'Merlin, he is a very powerful sorcerer,' Gaius began slowly. His words were cautious and quiet. There wasn't the firmness in them that Merlin had come to expect when Gaius wanted to talk him out of a plan. It almost felt like he was simply going through the motions. He already knew how the conversation would end.

'And you're injured,' Lancelot added, but even he seemed somewhat resigned; there was something about his hesitancy as he spoke. The statement seemed more like a question.

'I don't need my leg for casting spells.'

'You know what I mean. You're exhausted,' Lancelot pressed.

'I'm fine,' he replied gently. 'I can't see any other way. It's too risky for Arthur to try convincing Uther again. And if we try to fight then we will loose. At least this way we have a chance.' Neither of them said anything in reply to that; the hours sat talking about their options had filled them all with a deep sense of helplessness. Merlin's suggestion did seem like the only way.

'Can you defeat him?' Lancelot asked quietly, his eyes searching Merlin's; wanting to know the truth. Merlin didn't answer. He wasn't sure; he still didn't have a good grasp of the full extent of his power. He knew that one day he was destined to be the most powerful sorcerer the world had ever known, but he knew that he most definitely wasn't there yet. The potential was in him, but he wasn't sure how to tap into it. He turned to Gaius.

'Did you find out anything else about Sythe? Anything that I could use against him? Any weakness?'

'No,' he replied grimly. 'He is clever, cunning and manipulative, but there is very little record of his magical abilities; too much information was destroyed during the Purge.' Gaius held his gaze for several seconds, an unspoken sadness passing between them.

'Then I will have to go in and try.'

'How, Merlin?' Lancelot asked with a frown. 'You can hardly walk up to the castle and demand an audience.'

'Actually, I might be able to,' he replied heavily. They both looked at him warily. 'He knows I have magic,' he said slowly.

'What?'

'The black cloud in the room,' Merlin prompted.

'Arthur said that Sythe conjured it.'

'Because that's what Arthur thinks. He thinks Sythe conjured the black cloud to make Arthur look like the sorcerer trying to flee the scene; trying to draw out the game for longer.'

'It was you.'

'Of course it was,' Merlin said sadly. 'Arthur was loosing the duel; I had to get him out of there.'

'Sythe doesn't know that it was you that conjured it, though,' Lancelot pointed out. 'It could have been one of the guards.'

'He does. When he cut me with the sword, I sent a blast of magic at him on instinct. He knows it's me. If I ask him to face me, he will do.'

'Even if you do convince him to meet you, what's to say he won't bring Uther and a whole army of soldiers with him?'

'He won't,' Gaius answered quietly. 'He likes playing games. He'll want to use his magic and he can not do that if the King or anyone else is present.'

'So, you just meet up with him and then…?'

'Try and beat him,' Merlin shrugged. 'What else can I do?'

'What about Kilgharrah?' Gaius asked quietly. 'Surely he cane help.' Merlin shook his head slowly. So many times it had crossed his mind to call Kilgharrah –he would welcome the dragon's council- but he had left it too late.

'I can't talk to him unless he's close by and I can't risk bringing him to Camelot. It's safer for him if Uther believes he's dead.'

'Then go somewhere he won't be noticed,' Lancelot suggested urgently. 'He's helped you before.'

'I can't leave Camelot now; I just can't,' he sighed heavily. 'If Sythe tries anything you'd all be powerless to stop him. It's why I need to go and find him as soon as I can.' He looked at the other two, hoping for their understanding, and just about finding it. Lancelot, however, still looked unconvinced.

'Arthur will never let you go.'

'I know; which is why I'm going now.'

'What?' this time it was both of them.

'What do I need to wait for?'

'You're still recovering, Merlin,' Gaius told him. 'Your magic doesn't rely on your physical strength, but it does help.'

'I feel much better than I did,' he countered. 'One more day will hardly make a difference. The longer I leave it the more damage Sythe will do.'

'And what are we supposed to tell Arthur when he wakes up and you're not there?' Lancelot asked him. 'You know that the first thing he'll want to do is go and find you.'

'Then tell him you don't know,' Merlin suggested. 'Just pretend that one of you fell asleep whilst on watch and I snuck out.'

'That won't work.'

'Trust me,' Merlin told them. 'Arthur will believe a lot of things, especially when it comes to me.' Neither of them tried to protest. They had heard some of the ridiculous stories that Merlin had come up with to explain strange occurrences. By rights, Arthur shouldn't have believed any of them, but for some reason, the Prince took Merlin at his words. He trusted Merlin, probably more than anyone.

The continuing silence convinced Merlin that he had said enough. Wordlessly, he got up and moved to the latch that would open the door into the alley.

'Just be careful, Merlin,' Lancelot told him as he, too, got up and opened the door a crack to check outside. 'Arthur won't thank you for getting yourself killed.'

'That's not my plan,' he answered, but his smile was shaky. His plan was to defeat Sythe; it didn't require him to come out the other end alive. 'Just delay Arthur for as long as you can. Don't let him come after me.'

A few claps on the back and firm embraces later and Merlin found himself out in the night air of Camelot. As he walked cautiously down the alley, he couldn't help but wish that he could have said goodbye to Arthur.

* * *

Arthur was startled out of his sleep by loud boots pounding against stone. Instantly, he was alert and reaching for where his sword was beside him, but as the world came into focus, it was Gwaine's smiling face that he saw. With a sigh, he dropped his head back to the mattress and closed his eyes.

'How long have you been gone?' Arthur asked him, not bothering to open his eyes.

'Not that long. It's about midnight. Talked to Leon, though; we've got a secret meeting place worked out, arranged it along with the distractions. Another reason why you should be impressed.'

'What did he say?' Arthur asked, deciding that maybe it was worth his while to try and wake up a little. He sat up and gave Gwaine his full attention; the knight came and crouched beside his bed. 'Is there any news of my father?'

'Just that he and Sythe are getting the city under control together. Leon says that everything seems fine from the outside. The fires have been put out and the riots were sorted. It's just us traitors that haven't been dealt with.'

'So Sythe hasn't hurt my father?'

'No.'

'What's he waiting for? Why would he wait to take over?'

'Perhaps he needs you dead first,' Gwaine suggested, reaching over and helping himself to some bits of dried fruit that were left over from a previous meal. 'No point killing the King and taking over if the true heir's unaccounted for. Oh, and everyone knows that there's an imposter. Sythe has to be dressed in ceremonial clothes the whole time because-'

'-because they're one of a kind; they have to arrest any Arthur not dressed that way,' Arthur finished for him.

'Yep,' he nodded, 'Although if you really were a sorcerer, I'd have thought you could just magic some up. Wouldn't your father have realised that?'

'I don't know; I don't even know if he's in his right mind at the moment.'

'Arthur?' Gwen's sleep filled voice sounded from behind him and he turned to see her looking at him in confusion. 'Is everything alright?'

'No worse than it was yesterday,' he told her with a smile.

'How are you feeling?' He reached over and cupped her face with his hand.

'I feel better,' he nodded. And it was true; he did feel a lot better than he had done since leaving the ruins. His body felt stronger again and he felt more himself. The injuries to his hands and side still caused him a great deal of discomfort, but there was an evident improvement. His sleep for the past few hours had also left him feeling refreshed and hopeful. Not enough that he truly felt like Camelot would be theirs again soon, but enough that the despair wasn't quite as crushing as it had been the previous day. Perhaps they could now begin to form a new plan. They were rested and fed; maybe this time they could find a solution.

Sitting up, Arthur rubbed his eyes and scanned the room. Gaius was asleep on the mattress that Merlin had been using. He, out of all of them, still looked the most worn out. No doubt the current situation was taking its toll on the older man. Perhaps Merlin had recognised that and given the physician his mattress while he was on duty.

'Where's Lancelot?' he asked, on realising that the knight was not where he had been when Arthur went to sleep. Perhaps he had decided to keep Merlin company while he was on watch, although Arthur knew that Lancelot had already done more than his fair share of keeping lookout. The knight was as much in need of sleep as the rest of them.

Gwaine looked at him with an expression of confused amusement.

'What you on about?'

'Where's Lancelot, means: where is he,' Arthur answered sharply, annoyed that Gwaine should find such a straightforward question so funny. 'Is he on watch duty with Merlin?'

'Merlin?' Gwaine asked, frowning and looking quickly round the room. He stood up and did another sweep of the small space, his movements becoming more urgent. At the raised voices, Gaius was beginning to stir.

'What's the matter?' Arthur asked Gwaine as the knight took several steps towards the tunnel.

'Merlin isn't on watch duty,' Gwaine said grimly.

'What? But…' Now it was Arthur's turn to stand up. He copied Gwaine's movements, looking frantically round the room, but a familiar feeling of anxiety was creeping up on him.

'I've just spoken to Lancelot; he's the one on duty,' Gwaine said. 'Merlin isn't with him.'

Arthur felt his heart beat fast in his chest. He looked around the room again, desperately hoping that he'd just missed the manservant, but he wasn't there. Gwen was looking just as anxious and Gaius, who had now woken fully and sat up, had gone pale.

'Then where the hell is he?' Arthur asked.

No-one had an answer.

* * *

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	21. Chapter 21

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Here's the next chapter. Thanks for the reviews and let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 21**

'Where is he?' Arthur repeated more forcefully, looking at each of them in turn. 'When did anybody last see him?' He studied them for several seconds, but their expressions gave him no clues. Gwaine was looking just as confused as him and more worried than he normally appeared in these sort of situations. Gwen was looking anxiously at Gaius and Gaius was…Arthur frowned. His expression was unreadable, but he didn't seem to be suffering from the same confusion as the rest of them. 'Gwaine,' Arthur murmured, not taking his eyes from Gaius. 'Will you please go and get Lancelot?'

'Sure.' He disappeared down the tunnel. Arthur waited for several seconds, wondering how best to speak to Gaius about the situation; the man was practically Merlin's father; if he knew where the manservant had wandered off to then it meant he had let him go. Would he tell Arthur? He decided that a gentler approach would work better at this point.

'Gaius. Do you know where he is?' It took all his self control not to speak to him in his authoritative tone, but he forced himself not to; he had known Gaius for too long to treat him as he would another member of the court.

'I'm afraid I do not, Sire,' he replied evenly. 'But Merlin is known to wander off.' It was a throwaway comment, meant to instil some calm in Arthur, but it did the opposite. Gaius knew where Merlin was. He was about to reply when Lancelot and Gwaine arrived back in the room.

'Did Merlin go past you last night?' Arthur asked hurriedly. Lancelot looked briefly at the floor and then back up at him.

'I…I believe I fell asleep at one point, Sire. I'm very sorry.'

'So you're saying he went past you?' Arthur asked pointedly. He could feel his whole body tensing up as if preparing for battle. His muscles were coiling in anticipation and he was taking deep breaths.

'He must have done if he isn't here.'

'Really?' The tone was dangerous. He sensed Gwen stir beside him. She stood up quickly and laid a hand on his arm, clearly trying to placate him.

'Arthur, calm down.'

'Oh, I will, Guinevere. I will. As soon as somebody tells me where Merlin is.'

'They don't know,' she tried, but Arthur was shaking his head.

'Yes they do.'

'Hey!' Gwaine interrupted. 'I don't know anything!' He frowned indignantly, but Arthur wasn't bothered by it. It was obvious that Gwaine was just as confused as he was, even if he wasn't quite so angry. And that, as far as Arthur was concerned, made the knight the only man in the room who wasn't lying to him.

'No, but Lancelot does and Gaius does.'

'They just said-' Gwen began, but Arthur cut her off, he tried to keep his tone calm while addressing her and instead focussed on the other two.

'I know what they said, but they're lying.'

'Sire,' Lancelot tried.

'Because you don't fall asleep on watch; you've never, in all the time I've known you, done that,' Arthur continued, glaring at him. 'And even if you had this time, you certainly wouldn't have slept through someone walking past you, opening a door and going outside. Least if all Merlin! He can't walk anywhere stealthily.' His voice was dangerous; low and controlled. Even Gwen moved back in resignation; she knew him too well to try and talk him round at this point. Lancelot couldn't hold his gaze for more than a few seconds. He looked down at the ground, guilt written across his face. 'And you, Gaius,' he continued, turning on the man, 'I know that Merlin worries you half to death most of the time. If you didn't know where he was, you'd be a little more fearful for his safety.'

'He's probably-' Gaius tried, but this only irritated Arthur further.

'Tell me the truth,' he shouted, cutting the man off. 'Where has he gone?'

Arthur was not in the mood to wait out the ensuing silence, but Gwen brought it to an end for him.

'You let Merlin go out there on his own?' she asked, her utter confusion evident. This seemed to break through the men's resolve much more effectively than Arthur's cutting stare had. The two of them looked at each other, making Arthur clench his fists at his sides and take several deep breaths.

'Next to my father and I,' Arthur said through gritted teeth, 'Merlin is the most recognisable person in the city, and there is a warrant out for his arrest and execution. How could you let him leave here?'

'Sire,' Gaius began. 'Merlin believed he could help.'

'Merlin often believes he can help,' Arthur answered bitingly, 'that doesn't mean he's right.'

'Nevertheless, he is only doing what he thinks is best.'

'Please tell me that he hasn't done anything stupid. Is he meeting with the other knights?' At this he glanced over at Gwaine, who threw up his arms and shrugged.

'I've told you; I don't have a clue where Merlin is. If I did, I'd be dragging him back by now. Like you should have done,' he added, turning to Lancelot.

'He was determined to do it.'

'It's Merlin!' Gwaine argued. 'Gwen could have picked him up and carried him back here to be tied up. It would have been easy enough for you to do something similar!'

'Tell me what Merlin's doing?' Arthur interjected in frustration: not that he wasn't completely on Gwaine's side for once, but berating Lancelot wasn't going to get him any answers. 'What is he doing and where is he?'

Silence fell on the room and Lancelot took a deep breath.

'And don't lie to me,' Arthur added quietly. The knight paused again and looked up, but he made no move to speak. Arthur could see the overwhelming urge in the man to tell them everything; his sense of loyalty and nobility ran too deep. Arthur decided to use it against him.

'You swore an oath to be loyal to me. You swore, as a knight, that you would do as I asked. I'm asking you to tell me where Merlin is.'

Lancelot closed his eyes tightly, before the features of his face smoothed out and he looked at Arthur again; his eyes full of sadness.

'I'm sorry, my Lord, but Merlin asked me to remain silent.'

'Merlin is not the Prince of Camelot. Your allegiance is to me, not him.'

'Sire,' he pressed quietly, 'everybody knows that if they ally themselves with Merlin then they ally themselves with you.'

Arthur felt a fury rise in him at Lancelot's continued defiance; he had never seen the man like this before. But it was the words that fanned his anger, because they were true; he knew that Lancelot was right. Unbidden, the sense of connection and purpose between him and his manservant rose up again in Arthur, but he pushed it away. He didn't want Merlin's current actions to have any justification; he needed to believe that there was no good reason for him leaving the safety of their current location.

It didn't work. Lancelot's words rang through his head, undeniable in their accuracy. Merlin was the most loyal and devoted friend that Arthur had ever had the honour of knowing. If Merlin wanted his whereabouts and his mission kept a secret, then he was doing it solely for the purpose of protecting the Prince. Arthur knew this; he knew it wholeheartedly and it made him so angry because it meant that Merlin was another person who was risking his life for him.

He looked at Lancelot once more; the knight seemed to be bracing himself for another argument, but Arthur had none to give that could counter what had just been said. He tried a different approach. He moved forward and looked at both Lancelot and Gaius in turn.

'How long has he been gone?'

'A few hours,' Gaius answered slowly.

'Then surely, whatever he was planning has already been put into action. Please tell me where he is and what he's done. I'm not asking as your Prince,' he added, looking at Lancelot. 'I'm asking as your friend and as Merlin's friend.'

He stopped there and waited and he saw the two of them share another glance. It was with reluctance that Gauis shook his head again. Lancelot took a deep breath and then looked at Arthur, sympathy written all over his face.

'I'm sorry.'

Arthur froze for several seconds before making his decisions. He pushed down all his anger and the sense of betrayal that was sweeping through him and then picked up his sword. It was evident from the collective intake of air from everyone in the room that they expected Arthur to challenge a duel, but he didn't have that sort of time to waste. He put it into its sheath and then walked past them all to the tunnel, picking up a helmet that was on the floor.

'You can't go out there,' Lancelot told him, but he was cautious as he spoke; he knew how much he'd angered the Prince.

'Neither can Merlin, but he did.'

'Arthur, please.' Gwen this time. That was much harder. He could hear the fear in her voice. He turned back and walked over to her.

'You know I have to go and find him.' She looked at him for several seconds, but he could see her resolve crumbling; she knew what it would mean to him to stay behind and wait, hoping Merlin would return.

'Please be careful.'

He collected the last few things he would need as a terrible silence encompassed the group. He tied his cloak around his neck and slotted a knife into his belt beside his sword. No-one moved to help him and yet no-one tried to stop him.

'Sire,' Gauis tried, but he ignored the man and headed through the tunnel.

'I'll come with you,' Gwaine told him, grabbing a few things as he made to follow the Prince. Arthur considered it for a few seconds; had it been Lancelot he would have refused, but Gwaine was just as confused about Merlin's whereabouts as Arthur was. He turned back and gave the man a grateful nod.

Moments later, the two of them were walking through Camelot.

* * *

Merlin sat in the darkness of the ruins of Veneficus. He hadn't lit any of the torches that were attached to the walls in their sconces; he hadn't used magic to illuminate the area around him. He let the darkness encompass and hide him as he waited for Sythe.

It had taken him a long time to get to the point of meeting with Sythe. Once he had left the Midnight Moon, he had slotted himself into a group of soldiers heading for the castle –a task made all the more difficult due to the fact that he had to try and disguise his limp as he walked- and then detached himself from them to move into the lesser known passages of the castle as a means of moving around unnoticed. His first plan had been to go to Arthur's chambers and wait for Sythe there, but the castle was so packed with guards and soldiers that Merlin knew walking into Arthur's room would be too conspicuous. Anywhere else in the castle, such as the throne room, the Council chambers and anywhere else for that matter, would be too crowded. He needed to face Sythe alone.

And so, instead, he had made his way to the dungeons, put the guards to sleep with a spell –it was so much easier to do those things when Arthur wasn't around to condemn him to death for magic use- and then crept down the corridors and stairs until he got to Kilgharrah's cave. He detoured down one of the side corridors where they had stashed the rope in an alcove after leaving the cave the previous day, not wanting to arouse suspicions as to why the Prince was carrying round a huge length of rope. After retrieving the rope, there was nothing left to do but go down into Veneficus.

Merlin had tried not to think of how terrified he had been the last time as he shimmied down the rope, having welded it to the wall once again. He was quicker this time, swinging and reaching the ledge in half the time that he had done so before. Once on the precarious ledge by the tunnel, he broke the spell on the rope and gathered it up, leaving it in a pile outside the tunnel; he wasn't taking any chances that someone could follow him down.

After an uncomfortable trip through the tunnel -one which he was sure undid a lot of Gaius' work in healing his leg- and Merlin had found himself in the huge hall once again. It was then that he had begun to contact Sythe. He hadn't wasted any time over it. He had sat down, cross legged on the floor and focused himself. The magical aura of the room filled him with a sensation of power and control and possibility that he had not experienced before. He wondered if the magic in the room, could actually increase the power of his own, and the longer he stayed there, the more he became convinced that that was the case. It wasn't a huge increase, but he could definitely sense the magic in the room giving a potency to that which resided inside him. It seemed to react to his wishes more quickly than he had ever known it to before and he could sense it with a clarity that he only experienced on rare occasions.

He had taken the time to meditate on his new found power and focus; used it to calm his thoughts and try and find some sense of clarity.

With that done, his next task was to get the Sythe's attention. He had done it in a series of magical distractions that he thought might turn the sorcerer's focus towards his whereabouts. First had been several magical blasts that he had sent into the air and rock around him. They carried no physical force, but they resonated deeply inside users of magic. He continued to do that for several minutes until he was sure that wherever Sythe was, he had felt the power and was now trying to locate it. That done, he tried something that he had experienced himself, but had never initiated. Magical telepathy. He had done it plenty of times; he understood how it felt to be talking to someone inside your mind, but never had he been the one to forge the connection in the first place.

His first few attempts were clumsy at best and all he found was that his own thoughts swirled repeatedly around his head until it started to ache. But slowly, as he got the hang of it, Merlin could sense his thoughts reaching out. He used his experiences of talking to Kilgharrah mostly, tried to replicate the feel of his thoughts moving out of himself and, in return, Kilgharrah's moving into his mind.

Slowly, tentatively, Merlin started to put together the message he wanted to send to Sythe. It was short, to the point, giving nothing away except his location and the fact that he wanted to speak to the man. It was with deep relief and a terrible dread that Merlin felt the reply slip into his own mind. The tone of Sythe's thoughts, the way they felt, made Merlin shudder. There was such darkness and arrogance in them; it was evident that he was looking forward to the confrontation; a sadistic amusement resonated in his words.

_I'm looking forward to meeting you…sorcerer._

That had fifteen minutes ago and Merlin had felt the tension in his body rising with every second that passed. He had only a vague idea as to what he was going to do. He'd gone over a few spells in his head that he'd used before in self defence and a few that he'd read about in various magic books. Past that he was going to see how things went; that tactic had never failed him in the past…well, generally it hadn't failed him; he'd always managed to pull off some sort of plan in the end.

He had the feeling that in this case, however, he was going to need more than just 'some sort of plan'.

Before he'd managed to come up with one, though, the sconces all around the hall flared into life, blinding Merlin for several seconds before his eyes focused on Sythe, walking towards him from the few remaining shadows in the far corner, well over fifty metres away. Looking exactly like Arthur dressed up for a ceremonial banquet, the man strolled forwards, arrogance and confidence exuding from him in much the same way that it did from the real Arthur at times, but there was something so much more sinister in the way Sythe conveyed it.

Merlin tried to get up, but put too much weight on his bad leg and stumbled back to the floor before finally getting up to the background noise of Sythe's laughter. He felt his face grow hot and inwardly cursed his clumsiness. Fumbling idiot wasn't really the impression he had wanted to give to Sythe.

'You know, Merlin; I still can't quite believe it,' he mused as he came closer. There were twenty metres between them. 'Of all the people, in all of Camelot, you would have been the last one I'd suspect of having magic. I mean, I've watched you for...years, and I never once even came close to the truth.'

'Don't feel bad, most people don't,' Merlin nodded warily. Sythe had stopped about fifteen metres away. His posture was relaxed, calm. He was enjoying being here; the smile on his face was evidence enough of that.

'Well, let me be the first to congratulate you on your deception.'

'I'm not here to talk to you about what I can do,' Merlin said, gathering his thoughts together. 'I'm here to ask you to leave Camelot and give Arthur back his reign.'

Sythe laughed and looked at Merlin as if he was a child who didn't quite understand.

'That won't be happening. Maybe, a few hours ago, I'd have considered your offer, but you've made this game so much more fun.'

'This isn't a game,' Merlin told him more firmly. 'You're putting lives in danger. You're going to leave a path of destruction and death in your wake.'

'That's all part of it,' Sythe grinned. 'Seeing the lives entangle and unravel, trying to guess where people will go and what they'll do; or being puppet master of the situation.'

'Nobody's playing this game with you,' Merlin said, stepping forward slightly, forcing calm into his voice. 'You're wasting your time.'

'Don't you understand, Merlin?' he asked. 'Everybody's playing. You're playing your part beautifully. I have so much to thank you for.'

'There's nothing that you can thank me for.'

'Oh, but there is. So many things. Your loyalty, for one: without it, Arthur wouldn't have got this far; I've had to change my game plan so many times because you keep on giving him hope. And then for this secret…' he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, almost shuddering with the excitement of it all, 'it changes everything. And then the last thing that I truly want to thank you for,' he grinned. He stepped closer and Merlin felt his whole body tingle in terrible expectation, but no magical attack came, no blast of power that knocked him to the ground. 'You gave me a gift earlier and I've put it to good use.'

'I didn't give you anything.'

'Really? How is that leg of yours? I would have asked in the Throne Room, but I was thrown backwards quite unexpectedly.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Blood, Merlin. Your blood, a part of you, given to me on the blade of my sword.'

Merlin felt himself go cold. He was following the man's thought patterns, piecing the clues together. He looked up and focussed on Sythe, looking for any signs, any hints that what he was speculating about was true, while desperately hoping that it wasn't.

'It can get boring being a Prince,' he said quietly, his eyes never leaving Merlin's. His mouth moved and Merlin heard the words of the spell echo around the room. He made no move to defend himself. This attack was not something he could protect himself from; he would have to endure and fight it once it had taken place.

Merlin's eyes were fixed on Sythe, and he watched as the man's hair grew darker. He became skinnier, the ceremonial clothes hanging off him, until they too began to change; transforming into exact replicas of the clothes Merlin was wearing. Sythe's face grew paler, and his eyes shifted ever so slightly to a different shade of blue. Merlin felt a detached terror shoot through him as he came face to face with himself.

'All this time watching the two of you has taught me one key thing,' Sythe said. Merlin tried to ignore the sound of his voice, the tone that he used. 'Of everybody, it is you that can get closest to Arthur, you that he trusts the most, you that he will believe.' He stepped forward and smiled once more. 'I think the game is coming to a close, Merlin; and you're the key player.'

Merlin said nothing, but the words screamed loudly in his head. For the first time, he saw the situation as Sythe did: a game, because seeing it as anything more real than that at the moment was too horrifying. He would play along for now.

He only hoped that this was a game that he could win.

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	22. Chapter 22

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thanks very much for all the reviews. As always, I really appreciate them. As I said a couple of chapters ago, I'm going away, so this will probably be my last post for about two weeks. But then it'll be back to business. I think there are probably about seven or eight chapters left after this one, so we are on the home stretch. Toying with the idea of a sequel at the moment, but can't work out what to put in it just yet!

Anyway, enough jabbering from me. Hope you like this chapter! Please review! I'll speak to you in a fortnight!

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**Chapter 22**

Arthur walked the streets of Camelot with Gwaine beside him. In his guard uniform, striding purposefully passed people, it was easy to blend into the general bustle of the city. No-one questioned them, no-one stopped them. They were free to go where they wanted to. If only they knew where it was that they wanted to go.

Arthur was trying not to think about the situation too much, except to try and work out where Merlin might be. If he widened his reflections to Lancelot, Gaius and what might be happening to his manservant, he either felt a surge of hot anger, or a rush of chilling fear. Neither of the emotions helped in his search and neither of them provided him with any clarity of focus. Even so, he was constantly aware of both of them bubbling away in the back of his mind, ready to explode out, the moment he gave them attention.

'We need to narrow down our search,' he murmured to Gwaine. 'Do you think the knights will know anything?'

'Worth a try. We'll be able to talk to one of them. Come on.' He strolled forwards and then took the route to the stables. Being in such familiar territory gave Arthur a sense of connection to his life which now seemed such a distant memory, but also served to make him nervous. Anyone who came down here was likely to know him quite well; he ran the risk of being recognised. Gwaine seemed unconcerned by that and walked confidently on. When he got to the stables however, he walked right past them. Arthur frowned. The road he was heading down didn't seem to lead anywhere, but they had gone no more than a few metres further on when Gwaine turned round and began pacing back the way they had come.

'What are you doing?' Arthur hissed, keeping in step with him.

'Well, what did you expect? Me to stand in the castle courtyard and just shout for Elyan or one of the others? Subtlety is not your strong point.'

'Coming from you?'

'So far, not a single person who's after us, even knows I'm here,' he pointed out with a grin. 'Can you say that?'

Arthur raised his eyebrows and then sighed.

'So marching back and forth is…?'

'A signal of course. One of them will be watching; give it two minutes and they'll be here.'

Sure enough, they soon spotted Leon striding towards them. Arthur went to greet him, but was stopped by a punch in the arm that Gwaine gave him. Leon didn't even acknowledge that they were there. Instead he walked into the stables and out of sight.

'Give it a moment,' Gwaine whispered. Seconds later they heard a sharp whistling coming from inside the stables. 'All clear.'

'Sire,' Leon said, the moment that Arthur stepped through the door, leaving Gwaine to keep lookout for them. 'It's good to see you.'

'You too,' Arthur nodded, although he couldn't quite muster the same enthusiasm. Nothing about the situation seemed good. 'Is there anything new to report?'

'Nothing. Sythe is still acting like you. He and Uther are putting together plans to find you and the others. They don't seem to have any leads yet. As soon as they do, I'll let you know.'

'Thank you.'

Leon nodded and then looked expectantly at Arthur and then at Gwaine.

'Is there a particular reason you wanted to meet?' he asked hesitantly. 'Have you found a way to defeat Sythe.'

'No,' Arthur replied solemnly, trying to keep the despair out of his tone. It felt like such a long time since he had had to be a Prince addressing those who were under his authority, that he had almost forgotten the importance of exuding confidence and hope. It seemed much more challenging than he ever remembered in the past. 'We need your help.'

'Of course.'

'Merlin's missing.'

Arthur explained what had transpired earlier to a shocked and confused Leon. Nothing, however, shocked him more than Lancelot's refusal to cooperate.

'But surely he knows that Merlin is in danger?' the knight asked.

'Oh, he knows,' Arthur nodded. 'But for some reason he won't back down. Whatever Merlin's told him, he's convinced it can't be shared.'

There was an uncomfortable pause before Leon, gingerly spoke again.

'Sire, is it wise to go against Merlin's wishes in this instance?'

'It's Merlin. It's always wise to go against his wishes,' Arthur muttered in frustration. It wound him up no end that his knights seemed so willing to follow Merlin's instructions, even the ones that were sheer lunacy. Leon said nothing else, instead waiting for Arthur to continue. 'Have you heard anything in the castle or the town about Merlin? Is there anything happening that he could be involved in?'

'It would be easier if we knew more about why he left. Have you no idea?'

'None. All Gaius said was that he thinks he's helping.'

'And what would helping look like at this point?'

'I don't know,' Arthur sighed, 'convincing my father, but he must know that that won't work. He won't listen to Merlin, not a chance. He's convinced he's a sorcerer's accomplice out to destroy the Pendragon blood line.'

'Then what else could it be?'

From the door, Gwaine called across. 'The one thing that would help the most would be getting rid of Sythe. Maybe he's doing that.'

'How is Merlin supposed to defeat a sorcerer?' Arthur asked incredulously. 'He knows full well that he wouldn't have a chance, not unless he's planning on talking him to death.'

'Maybe he is,' Leon said musingly. Arthur fought the urge to roll his eyes.

'What do you mean?'

'How does Merlin always resolve conflict?'

'He avoids it,' Arthur replied.

'But if he's forced into it?' Leon pressed. Arthur just stared at him. 'Diplomacy, talking it through. He resolves things peacefully.'

'You think he's somewhere trying to convince Sythe to just go home?' Arthur asked, unable to keep the scepticism out of his voice.

'Well why else would he leave without saying anything?' Leon asked. 'If he'd found something that might help to defeat Sythe then surely he would have taken you with him. If he was leaving Camelot for any reason, he'd want you with him.'

'He's got a point,' Gwaine added. 'What would be the things that you'd stop Merlin from doing? The things that he wouldn't want you around for?'

'I just don't see him walking up to Sythe,' Arthur murmured, but the words had put doubts into his mind. Would Merlin really confront the sorcerer? The unease that he had been pushing down for the last hour or so rose up with a potency that made him clench his fists tightly at the side. Merlin had been known to do stupid things; facing off against a sorcerer wouldn't be that unbelievable. 'Where's Sythe now?' he asked slowly.

'He's spent the morning with your father, but a while ago he headed towards-'

'The armoury?' Arthur asked, his heart sinking.

'Yes, but how did you know?' Leon asked with a confused nod, but his face cleared with understanding a moment later; Gwaine had filled the knights in on all the events so far when he'd met up with them earlier.

Arthur looked back at Gwaine, trying not to show the fear that had risen up in him at the thought of his prison, and worse, the thought of Merlin being trapped in it.

'Nah,' Gwaine said, picking up on Arthur's thoughts. 'He can't have captured Merlin; the knights would have been told. There'd have been a commotion.'

'Not necessarily,' Arthur sighed. 'Merlin keeps on saying Sythe's playing a game with us. Holding Merlin secretly would make it more interesting. It would draw us in.'

'A trap?'

'Maybe.'

'So, are we going to walk into it?' Gwaine asked cheerily.

Arthur thought about it. He'd been known to walk into traps before, but only when the odds were highly stacked in his favour.

'Sythe doesn't know how Merlin and Lancelot got into the ruins,' Arthur pointed out. 'He won't be expecting us to go through the great dragon's cave. He won't even know about it.'

'You hope,' Gwaine told him.

'Sire, I'm not sure that this is a good idea. Just because he went to the armoury it doesn't mean he's gone to the ruins. We don't even know if he has Merlin.'

'If he doesn't then we don't have anything to worry about; we can just check and then leave.'

'And if he does?' Leon pressed.

'If he does, then we have to get Merlin out of there.'

'Sire-'

'I'm not leaving him in there,' Arthur interrupted firmly.

'Then let us go,' Leon said urgently. 'Camelot will not have a future if anything happens to you and we are in the best possible position to confront Sythe. He doesn't suspect that our allegiance is elsewhere.'

'No, none of you are to reveal your true thoughts to him,' Arthur told him forcefully. 'He is too powerful and I will not risk lives unless we are guaranteed at a least a chance if success.'

'But if just one of us went with Gwaine, My Lord,' Leon persisted. Arthur shook his head.

'Merlin has already risked his life to rescue me from Sythe. I won't sit by idly like a coward.'

'With all due respect, my Lord,' Leon said hesitantly, 'Merlin isn't the Crown Prince.' Arthur knew that Leon meant nothing against Merlin in the words he said, but they sent a tremor of anger through Arthur that he had to control. Arthur hated it, hated the divide that was always put between him and others. He understood of course, that his safety was important to Camelot, but he couldn't let that stop him from fighting for those he cared about. Yes, he was the Crown Prince, but the fact of the matter was that Merlin had never rescued him because of his title; Merlin had rescued him because they were friends. That was why Arthur wasn't being left behind; he was going after Merlin as a friend, not as a Crown Prince.

'I'm going,' he said firmly, 'and that is an end to the matter.'

'Yes, my Lord,' Leon reluctantly nodded. From the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Gwaine shaking his head in amusement, but he knew that the knight understood completely where he was coming from. 'But let me come with you both,' Leon continued after a moment's pause.

'No, I can't risk your allegiance being revealed. We still need people on the inside for when we do take the city back. Don't compromise your position, any of you.'

Leon nodded his assurance. 'We will be careful, Sire. I'll head back to the castle and inform the others of what's happening.'

'Thank you.'

Leon disappeared from the stables a few seconds later, leaving Gwaine and Arthur to make their way into the castle. This time they chose an obscure entrance that could only be reached through one of the old drainage tunnels of the city. Arthur had used it on occasion to leave the castle undetected when he had a mission that required secrecy. It didn't get them very far into the castle, and it was still a long way from the dungeons and the dragon cave, but it at least meant that they could avoid the courtyard area.

They were forced to move much more slowly than Arthur would really have liked. Running or even walking too quickly would arouse suspicion, which meant that Arthur was stuck walking around Camelot at what he considered to be a very leisurely pace while his brain tried to use the time to create various scenarios for what was happening to Merlin, or what they would find when they got to the ruins. Part of Arthur was hoping that Merlin would be there –at least that way he knew where he was-, but the other part was hoping that the ruins revealed only the empty darkness that Arthur had grown used to. At least that meant that Merlin was still safe somewhere, although it did nothing to help allay the desperation that Arthur felt to find out exactly what his manservant was doing.

They had to find him.

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'How did they do it?' Gwaine asked for the third time, turning around on the ledge again, the end of the rope in one hand. The torch that they had brought with them lay flickering on the ground, casting shadows all around them.

'I don't know,' Arthur replied, also for the third time. He was currently wrapping some rags of cloth that they had found close to the dungeons around his blistered hands; climbing down the rope would be tricky without some extra padding. At Gwaine's emphatic sigh, Arthur refocused his attention on their surroundings and looked again, scouring the rock face and the walls for anything that they could possibly use to tie the rope, but there was nothing. No protruding rock, no heavy boulders on the ground or in the tunnel.

'But you were with them!'

'I was a little preoccupied at the time,' he protested, tying off the final rag. 'I just remember getting to the top and both of them had the rope in their hands. They must have untied it.'

'From where?'

'I don't know.'

'What do we do then?' Gwaine asked with a sigh, finally giving up his attempt to find somewhere where they could secure the rope.

'You'll have to lower me down.'

'What?' Gwaine asked.

'Don't worry; I'm sure you can manage to hold my weight,' Arthur replied, a bite of humour in his tone.

Gwaine grinned at him.

'And I suppose if it's the other way round I might find myself plummeting to my death.'

Arthur didn't bother arguing with him; he was quite certain that he'd struggle to take Gwaine's weight on his own, especially in his current state.

'At the risk of sounding too much like Leon,' the knight continued after a moment, 'is it wise to send the Crown Princess into a dark tunnel with a sorcerer possibly lurking at the other end?'

'Gwaine,' Arthur said warningly.

'You know that Merlin would give you that disappointed puppy look if he knew what you were doing. You'd get a lecture.'

'Well, if he's going to run off, knowing full well that I wouldn't want him to; I'm going to do the same to him. See how he likes it,' Arthur argued, throwing the length of rope into the darkness.

'There's such maturity in your thoughts and actions, Sire,' Gwaine nodded sombrely, 'you'll make a great King.'

'I forget that I'm in the presence of such a wise and mature Knight of the Realm,' Arthur replied wryly as Gwaine wrapped the rope around himself and dug his heels in. Arthur slowly moved backwards and began to lower himself over the top of the ledge.

'Just be careful,' Gwaine, finished more seriously, some strain coming into his voice as Arthur let his full weight rest on the rope. 'I don't want Merlin to give me that disappointed puppy look either.'

Arthur gave him one last smile before he lowered himself into the darkness. Thankfully, the rags seemed to do the trick; his hands, though they were painful, were able to cling onto the rope as he made his way further down. The light from the torch, high up on the ledge, did little to light up the space around him and Arthur suddenly realised that finding the tunnel that he had come through the day before might be a little tricky. Eventually, however, he spotted what looked like an opening and a narrow protrusion that jutted out underneath; it seemed much smaller than Arthur remembered.

'Gwaine,' he called.

'Scared already?'

'Listen to me. I'm going to have to swing; can you hold the rope if I do?'

'Wait a moment.'

Arthur waited, surround by dark shadows and cold air that chilled his tired body. He felt like he was floating in nothingness; like he was trapped in some sort of limbo, with only the echo of his voice in his ears. After several seconds, Gwaine called an affirmative and Arthur began to swing. He tried not to think about the fact that it was only Gwaine that was keeping him from falling to his death and instead focused on timing his jump.

He made it…just, his hands wind-milling backwards for a few terrifying seconds before he regained his balance. His foot caught, however, on a pile of rope that was curled up on the ledge. In confusion, he crouched down and studied it; puzzled as to where it could possible have come from. Did this mean that his instincts were right and that Merlin was down here? But even so, how could he possibly have untied the rope, unless he had had help from one of the other knights. Surely Leon would have said something when they met before. Unless, of course, more of his knights were keeping Merlin's secrets

'I'm assuming you haven't plunged to your death,' Gwaine's voice called from above. Arthur replied an affirmative and assured the knight that he was fine and would be back shortly. The man's reply was swallowed up by shadows as Arthur made his way into the tunnel once more.

This time, his trip through the tunnel was filled with an undeniable dread, rather than the deep relief that he had experienced last time. Last time, he had been revelling in the fact that he had been rescued, and overjoyed at finding that Merlin was alive after all. Now, for all he knew, he was heading into a situation that could bring that possibility back to him as unchangeable reality. If Merlin was here –and the closer Arthur got, the more he believed it- then there was every chance that he was currently dead or dying. He would most definitely be a prisoner, of that Arthur had no doubt –instinctively he checked the sword and dagger on his belt- but as for what Sythe would do with him…that was open to all sorts of horrible imaginings.

Arthur still didn't understand why Merlin had done this. If he was honest, he actually felt quite angry at his friend; if he wasn't so worried about the manservant's safety, Arthur would probably be cursing him for being arrogant enough to try and carry out a plan on his own. How could he even contemplate doing something like this without Arthur? That was the question that was bothering him. They had always, in the past, worked together on missions and quests. Hell! Half the time, Merlin came along when he was categorically told that he was not to follow. And always -though Arthur had yet to admit it to Merlin's face- having the two of them together ensured the success a mission which, if taken on individually, would have been a disaster.

Their shared history spoke for itself: they were better together. Arthur knew it and Merlin knew it. Why then, had he decided to go it alone this time? What could be so awful or so dangerous or so ridiculous that Merlin had chosen to leave Arthur behind?

He hated not knowing; hated Merlin's foolish bravery; hated the fact that, once again, Merlin had proved himself to be a riddle that Arthur just couldn't puzzle out.

He was still deep in thought when the first echo of voices reached his ears. He froze instantly, feeling every fear slot back into place in his mind. Merlin was here, captured, alone, probably injured. He had to save him.

He crept further forward and saw light swallowing the darkness of the tunnel up ahead. The huge cavern lay ahead of him, the place where he had been confronted by his very worst fears; the place where he had felt a despair unlike anything that he had ever experienced before. For a split second, he froze. He never once considered turning back, but for a small moment he found that he had to use sheer will power to propel himself forward. The sound of Merlin's voice, however, spurred him on. His friend sound worried, scared maybe, but he didn't sound weak; whatever Sythe was doing to him, it had yet to really hurt him and for that Arthur was very grateful.

He tried to focus on what was being said, but the echoes in the cavern and the way they funnelled down the shaft he was in, made it impossible to discern words. What Arthur could make out, was that Merlin was talking a lot, even for Merlin. He strained his ears trying to listen out for Sythe's voice –technically his own as the sorcerer was still disguised- but all he could hear was Merlin. Maybe their luck would turn and Merlin would just talk Sythe to death; Arthur had felt like it could happen to him on more than one occasion.

At last, Arthur reached the end of the tunnel and carefully pulled himself into the light of the cavern. The glare blinded him for several seconds and he stumbled forward, his sword scraping along the floor as he got up. Inwardly he cursed himself; how many times had he yelled at Merlin for doing something just as stupid? Instantly, Merlin's voice disappeared and the hall was filled with an expectant silence. But as shapes began to focus into something more recognisable, he heard his manservant's voice break it.

'Arthur, get out of here.'

'What are you doing here, Arthur? Run!'

Arthur frowned in confusion; the voice had seemed to come from two different places. He blinked furiously; trying to bring the world into sharp clarity.

'Don't do that!' Merlin said dangerously.

'What?' Arthur called, but it didn't seem like Merlin was talking to him.

'Oh no, don't try it. You've done enough already.' Merlin again.

Try as he might, Arthur couldn't work out what was happening, but as his eyes finally adjusted to the light of the room, he felt a wave of nausea pass through him. He stumbled forwards, looking in alarm between the two men in the cavern. They stood several metres apart and were both facing him, still someway across the room from where he was.

'Arthur,' the one closest to him said, his hands held out in a plea for calm, 'it's me.'

'No, don't listen to him. He's Sythe,' the other said, glaring at his counterpart. Arthur looked at them, studied them. They were wearing exactly the same clothes, right down to the bandage that caused the breaches to broaden slightly below the knee.

A familiar horror swept through, Arthur, but this time he felt like he was watching from a great distance; seeing events unfold, but not really being part of them. He scoured their faces, looking for some sign, anything, but they were both staring at him with that sense of quiet urgency; waiting for him to make a decision.

'Merlin?' he asked, looking back and forth at them.

'Yes?' they replied in unison.

'Sythe?' he tried, fury in his tone. Both of them looked at the other.

'Stop this!' the Merlin closest to him called; turning in fury on the mirror image of himself. Would Merlin react like that, Arthur wondered? He rarely saw Merlin angry, but he'd seen him frustrated, seen him shout, and often it would be to do with injustice.

'Just let him go, Sythe,' the other returned. 'You won't be able to keep this up; he'll be able to tell. Please, just let him go.' Arthur heard the sincerity in the voice, the desperation. He felt panic rise in him as he realised that he didn't have a clue who the real Merlin was. How could he ever be sure? Arthur looked again, willing himself to spot something, anything, any sign, but there was none.

'Listen,' the first said desperately, looking hard at Arthur. 'The first time we met, I-' He stopped suddenly and whipped his face round to stare at his counterpart, before turning back to face Arthur. There was a look in the man's eyes, a desperation, a fear, an inevitability, but also an undeniable determination. In a split second, the man's hand was up in the air, held out towards Arthur, his mouth opening.

Arthur knew that pose, had seen it countless times before in the sorcerers who had attacked Camelot in the past. His battle instinct kicked in. Automatically, his hand went for his sword, but he knew that it would be useless at this range. Instead, he pulled out the knife that he had slotted into his belt earlier. Without pausing to think, he took aim and flung it at the man whose hand was held up in attack. It was his only defence against magic, one that he wasn't sure would be enough.

The movement was quick and the attack sudden, but even so, Arthur saw the slight change on the face of his attacker. A darkening of his eyes, the beginnings of a sigh leaving the man's lips; an admittance of defeat, even as a blue light began to surge towards Arthur. Was Sythe, the powerful sorcerer, really so terrified of a small blade which, in all likelihood from this distance, would miss its mark?

Arthur frowned, but suddenly became aware of movement from the other side of the room. His eyes flickered across to Merlin, only to be met with an expression that he had never once, in the all the years that he had known Merlin, seen on his friend's face. It was a glare of malice and vicious intent that was contrary to everything that Arthur had ever seen in Merlin; as if the version of his manservant standing there was the opposite of his friend in every way: the darkness to his light, the evil to his good, the anger to his compassion.

But what was more, the man across the room also had his hand outstretched; his lips were also moving, his gaze was also fixed upon Arthur, but there was so much more darkness in it. From his hand, a glow of green energy began to smoke and bubble, before hurtling towards Arthur with such speed that he could do nothing but stand and wait for the impact that he knew was following. Blue and green; the power –the magic- rushed towards him from two sides, pushing out all thought and reason. The blue light reached him first, just as the dagger he had thrown embedded itself deep in the shoulder of the one closest to him, slicing through the chainmail under the force of the attack. Arthur heard the cry, but his senses were overruled by the sensation of light enveloping him, cushioning him, moulding itself around him. Like a shield, he realised.

Exactly like a shield. The green fire crashed into him, with so much force that it shook the ground beneath him, but Arthur felt nothing on his body; the shield kept all danger from him.

A shield of blue; a shield of light; a shield of goodness; a shield of deep compassion and affection. A shield that reminded him only of Merlin.

With a sense that this moment would stay with him forever, would be the making or breaking of him, would be the pivotal point in his life, Arthur turned and looked at the man who had protected him with a shield of magic, even as that man clutched at his shoulder, his face white with agony. Arthur looked at him and saw exactly what he knew he would see and exactly what he didn't want to see.

He saw Merlin.

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	23. Chapter 23

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thank you for being so patient. I'm back from holiday now, so updates can begin again. I'm away again in a few of weeks' time, but I think the story might be finished by then, so that'll be fine. Thank you again for all you lovely reviews! Please let me know what you think of this one.

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**Chapter 23**

Everything looked different.

Not just because of the shield of energy that was still wrapped around him and which was tingeing his surroundings with a bluish hue. No, that wasn't it.

Everything in his entire world looked different, was different; had to be different.

Suddenly, things he'd accepted since he was a child, things that had become even more engrained in him over the last few years, seemed to shift in his mind. He could feel his thoughts and prejudices and principles twisting and turning; trying to mould themselves into something that would make sense of the situation. But there was nothing that could balance out what he was seeing in front of him. His sense of equilibrium was rapidly disintegrating and he could feel the world pitching around him.

He pushed all his thoughts, all his fears, all his anger deep down inside himself, hiding it away, forcing it into silence. He couldn't address the situation; he just couldn't. He felt his mind calm and relax into a blankness that allowed him to process what was happening around him, without the paralysing understanding that was lurking on the edges of his consciousness; waiting to crush him into pieces.

Across the room, Sythe was snarling with anger at his failed attempt on Arthur's life. He stepped forward, his hands raised once more; twisting the familiar features of Arthur's manservant –manservant and friend; nothing more, nothing less- into a terrible expression of hatred. But even as he began to utter the words, Merlin was already rushing towards Arthur, standing in front of him, calling out words, which Arthur didn't understand -didn't want to understand, pretended weren't coming from the man's mouth- so that Sythe's attacks were met with equally powerful ones.

So powerful; so terrifying in their power. He saw them both; saw the mirror of their abilities.

No! He pushed the thoughts down, willed his heart to calm. He saw Merlin, Merlin, Merlin. His manservant and friend –loyal friend- the man who had stood beside him when a situation was desperate and dangerous. But then, how dangerous could those situations have been for someone who…?

Arthur clenched his fists at his side, imagining that he was crushing the thoughts to dust until they trickled like fine sand onto the floor.

The air was shimmering and shaking with…power –that was all Arthur could bring himself to call it.

'You think you can beat me boy!' Sythe spat; his voice amplified somehow, shimmering like an echo.

'I know I can beat you,' Merlin replied. Sythe was thrown backwards by an invisible force. Arthur tried to push Merlin's words away; tried to not-hear what had been said; how much confidence there had been in them.

'Really?'

And suddenly, Merlin wasn't there anymore. Arthur saw him high in the air, held there by some invisible force, kicking frantically at the air. And the relief that flowed through Arthur at seeing the situation his friend was in filled him with shame. But it meant something, meant that Merlin wasn't that terrifying weapon of…power that he had been moments ago.

High above him, Arthur heard Merlin's voice cry out across the cavern. The ground beneath Arthur began to tremble and shudder; so much so that he couldn't keep his balance. He fell to the side, but his eyes didn't leave Merlin's body. He wished they had. He saw the outstretched hands once more; saw the blast of lightning-like force that emanated from them; felt his shield of protection flicker and falter and saw Sythe throw up his own in anticipation, but the strike wasn't aimed at him. It was the ground at the man's feet that absorbed the full might of the earth shattering -quite literally- blow.

Merlin dropped to the ground, crying out as he landed on the arm where Arthur's knife was still embedded, but instantly he was on his feet again. He didn't look at Arthur, but every movement of his body, every turn he took made sure that he was blocking Sythe from his friend. It wasn't necessary, however. The floor where Sythe stood had crumbled, rocks shattering in all directions, propelling themselves across the room like arrows. Arthur threw up his hands to protect his face, but Merlin's shout and the sudden warmth around him, told him that he was shielded again. He backed up, tried to scramble away from everything, but he couldn't. His muscles weren't responding to his mind's instructions and Merlin was there, in front of him, brimming with…power. Arthur closed his eyes, ran his hands over his face and tried to take deep breaths, even as Sythe's figure disappeared into the ground, his hands flailing.

'Run!' He heard the voice as if it was an echo form years gone by. Arthur started to look towards the voice, instinctively turning to it, but he caught himself in time; he couldn't look Merlin in the eye. 'You need to get out of here. He'll be back any second.'

Arthur could see Merlin from the corner of his eye. He wasn't looking either; their gazes hadn't met, couldn't, would never connect in the same way they had done before. Arthur felt the finality of the moment, felt an emptiness suddenly swirl through his chest.

'Arthur!' The tone was more urgent now and oh-so-familiar. Merlin was beginning to turn towards him, Arthur could sense it. Unconsciously he scrambled back. He saw the way Merlin tensed, and briefly, just for a second, he looked at him. Instantly, he read the hurt in Merlin's eyes and in the way he held himself, but it only made him angry. What right did Merlin have to be hurt? What right did he have to tense with grief and regret? What right did he have when… No! Arthur berated himself again. Not now, he couldn't think about this now. Not now, not ever. He needed to go back, go back to a place where he hadn't seen everything that was now inescapably fixed in his mind.

'I don't run!' He heard himself shouting the words as he stood up. He had no idea why he said them, or what he expected Merlin to say.

'Well then, strategically manoeuvre,' Merlin told him, just as loudly. Arthur felt the emptiness deepen. It sounded like his friend; like a ghost of the manservant. The familiarity of it struck like a knife. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't understand.

'Arthur!' This time Merlin was shouting, and suddenly he was there, in front of Arthur. Arthur couldn't escape the gaze this time, couldn't banish Merlin to the peripherals of his visions. He looked at his manservant; saw him; knew who he was and he found himself frozen in place. He looked at the man who had been beside him for so many years and almost cried at the recognition he saw in every feature. The truth was inescapable; whatever this man in front of him could do, whoever he was; Arthur knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was Merlin. 'Please get out of here,' he said. 'You need to survive.'

Arthur couldn't form any words, couldn't create any response, but he did find himself moving backwards, heading for the tunnel that he had come through. He didn't turn his back on Merlin; he couldn't work out why not, but the look on his manservant's face told him the answer.

'Arthur…' Merlin called, his voice quiet and sombre in the dark room. Behind him, light was beginning to flash from the crater that had just been blasted into the floor. 'Please, don't think that I…' He shook his head, pressed his lips together and stepped back. The sincerity, the fear, the desperation: all of it drove the emptiness further into Arthur. He shook his head as well and turned around; heading for the tunnel.

He didn't remember anything of the next few minutes. All he could see was Merlin's face, that final plea to… To what? Arthur didn't even know. He went through the tunnel, reached the rope and began to pull himself up, heedless of the fact that the bandages on his hands had slipped; heedless of the fact that Gwaine was holding the rope with a phenomenal strength, heedless of the fact that there was a slight echo of rustling metal; heedless of the fact that he was walking into an ambush.

Even as he reached the ledge and was hauled up by four guards, he struggled to muster up the shock that he knew he should feel and the fight that he knew he should attempt, but he just couldn't. Nothing could surpass the revelation that he had just borne witness to; nothing could soften its blow and nothing could make it go away.

When he was thrown into the dungeon cell, he barely registered hitting the floor.

* * *

Merlin watched Arthur's retreating form with a despair that he had never felt before. In all the times he'd imagined Arthur finding out, he had never considered the utter desolation that would accompany it. He knew it would be terrible, of course; how could it not be when it revealed to Arthur the lies that he had been telling for five years, the deception that had been Merlin's entire interaction with the Prince since the moment they met?

But this…This was so much worse than he had ever dared to believe. He could almost physically feel the chasm opening between them, he could feel the earth moving, drawing them away from each other across an unreachable divide of betrayal and mistrust that could never be crossed.

The shattering impact of power smashing into his back hurled him from his desperate musings and he felt himself being thrown across the room, only to crash into the floor, his injured arm screaming white fire at him and his other arm twisting sickeningly underneath him. He rolled onto his back, barely able to breathe after the impact and saw Sythe walking towards him, evidently having pulled himself out of the crater Merlin had created. He'd never expected it to stop the sorcerer; he had just wanted to buy the time needed for Arthur to escape.

For a moment, however, Merlin thought he'd miscalculated something, because it was Arthur that was walking towards him. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but it still showed him the Prince.

'I know I said that being Arthur was getting tiresome,' Sythe smiled at him, as Merlin pushed himself shakily to his feet, 'but if you ask me, being you has served its purpose. It's a shame really; I had so much planned in your shoes. I suppose I'll have to content myself with being the arrogant Prince.'

'I will stop you,' Merlin told him firmly. 'It's over, Sythe.'

'Perhaps,' he grinned, 'but who is it over for, Merlin? Quite a show you put on for your magic hating master.'

Merlin said nothing; there was nothing that he could say to counter Sythe's words. He had shown Arthur the devastating power of his magic; there had been no gentle introduction, no explanation; just his instinctual magic being unleashed at close to its full potential.

'You may as well give up now,' Sythe continued. 'He won't trust you ever again. Even if you beat me and he is accepted as the real Prince, your death will be the first command he gives.' Merlin pressed his lips together, tried to block out the words, but they were silky and smooth, and tinged with just enough truth as to make them seem irrefutable.

But killing him? Would Arthur really have him killed? Merlin wanted to deny it; after all, Arthur had shown no violence towards him after he'd understood the truth just now. But he had been shocked, Merlin told himself; Arthur had never looked so confused and so lost.

'You can't argue with me can you,' Sythe smiled. 'Either way, it's over for you, Merlin. Your precious Prince has turned against you.'

The words bore into Merlin's heart and soul with agonising intensity, so much so that he was barely able to deflect the blast of power that Sythe once again sent towards him. A pathetic shield deflected around half the impact, but the rest sent him skidding back across the floor.

He threw his own attack back, but it was clumsy and lacked the power that was needed to knock Sythe of balance. The man deflected it easily.

'All those years of secrecy laid bare,' the sorcerer shouted at him, accompanying the words with a lightning-like strike that sent spasms of pain shuddering through him. 'And so close to Morgana's betrayal and magical revelation. You've changed everything that ever bound the two of you together.' Merlin tried to regain focus, but his mind kept on flashing in different directions. So many secrets and lies that had defined him as a person, and now Arthur knew.

He raised his hand and uttered a spell which sent a plume of fire hurtling towards Sythe, but seconds later, steam filled the room as it hit a barrier of water that the sorcerer had thrown up. It was quickly followed by dagger like shards of rock, from the crater remains of Merlin's earlier spell, bearing down on him like arrows. This time all he could do was try and batter them off course with a wave of his hand and a hastily put together enchantment. The majority were deflected, but more than one got past and embedded into his skin, cutting through the chain mail. One scraped his cheek, another sliced into his side and yet another rammed into the top of his leg. He gave a yell of pain and hastily pulled them out, knowing that he shouldn't, but wanting to stop the sharp pains from throbbing through his body.

With a shout, he tried to throw Sythe backwards, but his concentration was faltering and it only pushed the man back a couple of steps.

'Perhaps you were wrong,' he said calmly, 'perhaps you won't beat me after all. But I don't want it all to be over just yet,' he said with a sigh, as if Merlin really was inconveniencing his plans. 'I want you to see the fall of your Prince. I think we've given him enough time now, don't you?'

'If you do anything to harm him…'

'I'm not going to do anything. Really, this time, it's your fault,' he said with an apologetic shrug. Merlin felt himself freeze.

'What are you talking about?'

'I mean that by now, the guards should have him. They're waiting in the old dragon's cave. That's right isn't it?' he asked, with a frown of feigned confusion. Merlin didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. 'I wanted to find out how you got in before,' he smiled. 'As soon as I heard you calling me,' –he tapped his head-, 'I sent them to cut you off. Of course, you were already down here by then and I suppose Arthur must have just got there before them, but no worries; they'll have caught him on the way back up.' He walked further forward until he was crouching next to Merlin. Merlin felt his magic surging through him, ready to defend and attack at the slightest movement from Sythe, but the man only crouched down beside him.

'It's been invigorating, Merlin,' he smiled, 'but if you'll excuse me, I have an imposter to interrogate and execute.'

Merlin took a deep breath, and allowed his magic to direct itself, but before the surge could leave him, he felt Sythe's hand on his shoulder, and suddenly, all the magic he'd been preparing to throw at Sythe seemed to reverberate around his body. He felt his back arch, was vaguely aware of his head striking the ground with enough force to blind him for several seconds, while his limbs snapped back and forth at impossible angles.

The last thing he heard before his mind descended into blackness was Sythe's voice, still shimmering with a dangerous gentleness.

'Just remember: Arthur will die, knowing you for who you really are.'

Merlin felt a tear roll down his cheek, and then he felt nothing.

* * *

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	24. Chapter 24

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thank you once again for the reviews. They're always such a motivation. I can now say with relative certainty that there will be 27 chapters in this story along with an epilogue. So that means we really are heading to the end. Thank you so much for all your supportive comments. Please let me know what you think of this chapter as well.

* * *

**Chapter 24**

Arthur stared absently at the walls of the dungeons. He hadn't been in there many times in his life, but he had been there enough times to recognise the damp smell of decay that pervaded the area and the rotting straw that was buried under piles of more freshly cut hay. He remembered the feel of the thin streams of light on his back as they flitted their way into the cell from the outside world.

And somewhere, right at the back of his mind, he remembered the indignation he had always felt at his father throwing him in the dungeons, remembered the anger and the sense of injustice when the King pulled rank and locked Arthur away. But even though he remembered those emotions, he struggled to feel that way as he sat in the dungeons this time round.

In fact, he struggled to feel anything. A numbness had descended on him and he had neither the energy nor the inclination to try and lift it.

Merlin was….Merlin was….

A sudden surge of anger shot through him, shaking his lethargy for a moment and giving him the power to bring his fist down hard on the floor, before that extra strength also failed him and he bowed his head again.

Merlin was…

He shook his head; he couldn't do it, couldn't bring himself to finish the thought. This had to be a trick. This was another one of Sythe's games, another trap that Arthur had fallen into. Merlin had never been down in those ruins; surely it was an illusion, a clever enchantment that a sorcerer bent on taking over Camelot had put in motion in order to throw the crown Prince off.

And what did it matter if Merlin –the supposedly real Merlin- had struck a chord of familiarity so deeply within Arthur that he would have bet his life it was the man he had known for so long? What did it matter if supposed-Merlin had done everything to try and protect him in the cave, as his manservant always had done? What did it matter if he had jumped in the way of a spell and provided Arthur with a shield of protection that had no doubt saved him, that he had demonstrated the same loyalty that Merlin had always shown him in the past? What did any of that matter? Sythe had been watching the two of them for years; he could create a convincing illusion of Merlin easily. Couldn't he? Couldn't a man so evil still mimic compassion in a vision of his creation?

Surely that was the only explanation. There was no other. Merlin had not been there; he was still wandering round Camelot, helpless and foolish in his good intentions. The man he had seen in the cavern couldn't have been Merlin; it just couldn't.

But what if it was him?

Arthur tried to smother the question with more acceptable ideas, but it shone through his mind like a beacon; it demanded attention, demanded to be answered. What if it was him? What if his friend and servant had been lying to him since the moment they met? What if all along Merlin had been a…

Arthur fisted his hands in his hair and shook his head. It was stupid. How could he even entertain the idea? Magic was evil; Merlin was not evil. Magic corrupted its users; Merlin was not corrupt. Magic caused destruction; Merlin was not destructive. Magic was strong; Merlin was not… Arthur couldn't complete that thought either. It would have been a lie. Merlin was strong; there was no doubt about it. Maybe not in the way that Arthur was, but Merlin was strong: he stuck to his ideas; he marched –well, stumbled- into terrifying situations; he put up with everything that Arthur threw at him, literally or metaphorically. Merlin was strong.

But that didn't mean-

The thought was quickly interrupted by another.

Magic was a mystery; Merlin was a mystery. How many times had Arthur looked at Merlin and realised that while he knew him, he didn't really _know_ him. He was a riddle, an enigma, a puzzle.

Magic was clever; Merlin was clever. Arthur never admitted that, but he knew that Merlin was clever; knew it in the way the man could handle people, in the way he could handle Arthur, in the way he could say exactly the thing that Arthur needed to hear in order to make the right choice. Yes, Merlin might have been a clumsy idiot, but that didn't mean he wasn't clever.

But just because there were some comparisons, that didn't mean anything, Arthur reasoned. Merlin was kind, compassionate, good, and magic was none of these things. Nothing Arthur had seen had ever shown him that magic was good. Except for…

Arthur felt the panic rise in him. Yes, there had been a time when he'd seen magic being used for good. It was so many years ago now, he had buried it deep down, covered it with his father's words and his own terrible experiences. But now he remembered it as he looked round at the dark walls of the dungeon. At the grey rock and stone. He had been somewhere like that before, surrounded by rock, trying to climb out of a cave, unable to see anything. The only thing that had saved him had been a ball of light; a ball of light that could only have been magic; its surface flecked with white and blue and…

Arthur froze, his whole body jarring to a halt. His breathing stopped, his eyes were unblinking as he tried to stop his mind from taking the path that it had set itself down, but it was too late. The comparisons were being drawn; the familiarity was echoing through his head. He had seen that light again today; he had seen it as the shield was thrown up around him.

A light that had reminded him of Merlin. It was the same. The same translucent aura that had guided him when he'd been lost in the caves all those years ago –lost in the caves trying to save Merlin's life- had protected him from the onslaught of magic that had been sent his way today. Arthur tried to contain the thought again, but it was too late. Unbidden, memories began to flow through his mind like a torrent. He couldn't stand up in the force of them; he just had to let himself be carried away by the current.

How many times had Merlin appeared injured or exhausted to wait on Arthur, with some ridiculous tale that Arthur had accepted with nothing more than a raised eyebrow of scepticism? And how many times had magical attacks been inexplicably averted, only for Merlin to be found at the centre of them? How many times had Merlin survived a situation that should have killed him, for that matter? How many times had Merlin been accused of sorcery? Surely it was more than anyone in the kingdom.

Arthur heard a shout echo around his cell and looked up to pinpoint the source of it, only to find that it was him. His mouth was open and he was shouting in denial and anguish.

This couldn't be true. This couldn't be. This couldn't.

But there was too much for him to argue against, there was too much for him to discard as nonsense. There was too much for him to fight.

Merlin was…

Still he couldn't do it. He felt tears roll down his cheeks as a battle raged inside him: a battle where he fought for Merlin's goodness on one side and fought against magic on the other. The two ideas suddenly didn't seem to exist in peace; this time the two sides were destroying each other, leaving Arthur in the middle, fighting to hold onto some semblance of order. He saw the two sides in his mind, saw them getting closer and knew that it meant the destruction of one of the two things that Arthur understood to be undisputable truths.

That Merlin was his loyal and trusted friend.

That magic was evil.

Suddenly the two ideas couldn't co-exist and they splintered into a thousand pieces in his mind, reshaping themselves into one thought that Arthur couldn't hold back any longer.

Merlin was a sorcerer.

* * *

The game. The game. Playing the game. Always playing the game. A piece on the board. Being moved, being controlled, being used. But always playing the game.

What game was he playing?

His eyes lazily opened and he instantly became aware of the fire sizzling through his body. He gave a yell of alarm and cried out, trying to get up and move away from the place in which he was currently lying, a place so full of agony that he could barely think. But he couldn't move.

'Help!' he called. He looked round wildly, but there was nobody there. There were dull lights all the way around the cavern that he was in. Veneficus, he remembered. Memories of the duel came into his mind and he looked around frantically for Sythe, but he had gone.

Arthur!

Merlin tried to get up again, but the pain surged once more and he remained where he was, his eyes watering against the pain and his hands clenched into fists that he was sure were drawing blood. But it was nothing compared to the fire ripping through his body.

It was then that Merlin realised something else through the thick haze of agony: the pain that he was in, was of a magical variety. He had been in enough magical duels to be able to recognise it above physical pain. He whimpered as his focus on the sensations sent fresh spikes surging through him. But there was something more; the power he could sense, the way it felt; it reminded him of himself. As if someone was hitting him with his own fist; it felt like he was inflicting the pain on himself.

With effort he reached for his magic and sent it shooting onto the surface of his skin, trying to dislodge whatever power was currently incapacitating him, but a scream was ripped from his throat as he felt the magic turn against him, joining the pain that was already there and increasing it to excruciating levels. He felt his body trembling violently, but was unable to do anything about it. He had no control, not while knives seemed to be piercing every inch of him.

After a few minutes, in which time Merlin released his grip on his magic until he could barely sense it, the pain began to subside marginally; it was enough for him to begin to focus on somehow getting out of this situation. Whatever enchantment Sythe had put on him was turning his magic against him. The thought chilled Merlin; he had always, always had his magic to fall back on, even if he often had to use it surreptitiously. But this…this was intended to make him feel helpless; just another of Sythe's plans to manipulate him into giving up. Helplessness summed up the situation that Merlin was in entirely. He couldn't escape, he couldn't help Arthur, he couldn't protect his friends.

But Sythe could not win. This wasn't a game that Merlin was going to let himself get pulled into unawares anymore.

Decisively, Merlin pushed his desperation deep down inside himself and focussed on getting free. He couldn't move –that much was clear- and he couldn't use magic to free himself –he shuddered as he remembered the agony, some of which still inched its way into him-, but perhaps he could use magic closer to his body. Before, he had tried to tear the invisible restraints from the outside, but perhaps a more subtle approach would be better.

Carefully, he eased the tinniest amount of magic from within himself and pushed it outwards until it rested as a thin layer -no thicker than a hair- across his chest. Sythe's enchantment crackled uncomfortable against him, but it was manageable, like being stung by nettles. Slowly, he allowed the layer to spread out across his entire body, tight against him, the thinnest covering. The pressure from the enchantment built, like tiny scratches across every inch of his skin. He gasped, but kept his mind focussed.

Once the layer was intact, he allowed the magic inside him to build behind it. It made his body tremble and swell as he forced more power from his internal store towards the outsides of his body, always keeping it locked behind the initial layer. Sythe may have been powerful and he may have known that Merlin's abilities were impressive, but he couldn't have guessed that Merlin was Emrys. For all the information he had gathered, he would not have realised the potential that lay in Merlin. As far as Sythe was concerned, Merlin was a powerful sorcerer, who had learnt some useful tricks, but was in no way a real threat. Sythe's arrogance, coupled with Merlin's utter lack of focus after Arthur had appeared, would surely have convinced him that Merlin was inexperienced, that his abilities were clumsy, and perhaps he was right, but there was one thing that he couldn't have factored in. The power that Merlin could wield.

He rarely used his full magical potential; it scared him and made him question destiny's wisdom in gifting him with such devastating abilities, but he knew it was there, lurking under the surface, at his call if he needed it. He couldn't control it adequately; he still needed to work on his that, but in this particular situation, no control was needed. Merlin just needed power.

It continued to build beneath the layer around him. The trembling of his limbs increased and he felt like fire was consuming him. He knew he was shouting, but he could barely hear it over the throb in his mind at the torment that he was being forced to endure. All hints of his surroundings faded until it was just him and his torturous journey to free himself.

At last, he knew that he could bear it no more. With one final gathering of his own power, he sent the build up of magic surging outwards, pressing against Sythe's spell, which covered him so completely. For a terrible moment, Merlin believed he had failed. He felt Sythe's magic trap his own, beginning to turn all that power back on Merlin. He knew it could quite possibly kill him, and panic began to blossom in him for an instant, until suddenly he felt Sythe's spell begin to splinter apart.

He felt a slice of his magic break through the barrier that had contained his power and impact the roof of the cavern, obliterating a portion of it into dust. The opening paved the way for the rest of his magic. Within seconds, the spell that had turned his own magic against him crumbled and the full force of his power exploded from him. The pressure that had been destroying him subsided and relief flooded through him.

But he had little time to relax in his freedom. He felt time slow as he sensed his magic heading towards the cavern roof and walls with enough force to bring the entire place down around him. Who knew what effect that would have on the city above him?

With a cry, Merlin thrust his hands into the air and caught the magic that was racing away from him. The force of it lifted him clean off the ground, pulling his arms and legs out and sending a terrible pressure through his body, as if every inch of him was being pulled towards the cave edges.

His cry echoed through the cavern and the sensation of being torn apart consumed him, but still he did not let go of the magic, and slowly, agonisingly slowly, it began to recede. Merlin felt himself floating back to the ground, his magic dissipating into nothing as he did. When his feet touched the rock floor, he made no effort to hold his own weight and instead let the magic lower him to the ground.

Panting, tears rolling down his face, Merlin lay there, trying to regain his strength. His ears rang and his whole body tingled and it was several minutes before he could gather enough strength to sit up. As soon as he did, he felt the injuries that his last encounter with Sythe had created.

His side burned and he glanced down to see blood seeping through the chainmail that he wore. Using magic he pulled the mail shirt off and examined his injury. His shirt was soaked with blood and the gash was deep into his side. Wincing, he gingerly touched it and uttered a spell that would stop the bleeding; it would do nothing for any infection, but he could let Gaius deal with that later. He quickly repeated the process with the injury in the top of his leg and face.

Finally, he touched the top of his arm where Arthur's knife was still embedded. He pulled it out and instantly he felt his fear for Arthur, his regret at the Prince's discovery and his uncertainty as to what their future as master and servant –as friends- would hold.

He quickly tended to the injury and pushed himself to his feet. The pain from his wounds was manageable, but he muttered a few words and used magic to numb it a little more. But the wound from Arthur's knife he allowed to cause the full amount of pain it could.

He knew it was stupid, knew that leaving himself vulnerable like that could slow him down, but he didn't care. He wanted to feel that pain, wanted to have it there as a reminder of what Arthur had seen in him, needed it to drive him forward, to help him remember that there was so much more at stake now than just Camelot. No, he would keep that pain, if only so that it could help the aching pain in his chest to seem that little bit less devastating.

He pushed those thoughts aside. They were unimportant now. He had to get to Arthur. Getting to his feet, he at first turned to go to the tunnel, before remembering Sythe's words. The tunnel wasn't the safe option anymore. Reluctantly he turned and looked at the direction from which Sythe had come. At first, his steps were halting as he struggled to regain balance after the torture that his body had been subjected to, but he pressed on, eventually managing something akin to a smooth walk. Peering into the darkness, he squinted to try and find whatever entrance it was that Sythe had been using. He whispered a spell and the light in the cavern brightened, but still he couldn't see any entrance. The tinniest breeze from above, however, caused him to look up. Merlin gave a sigh of exhaustion as he spotted a ledge fifteen metres up.

With a shake of his head –a head that was beginning to pound- Merlin mustered the magical strength needed to levitate his body. He had only tried that particular trick a few times and not very successfully. He had only ever managed a few metres, but sheer determination forced him to build his strength and try it now.

It was shaky, of that there was no doubt, but Merlin managed to lift himself towards the tunnel. He pulled himself into it and lay on the cool rock, sweat dripping from him and his breathing erratic. Pushing himself up, crying out as he put too much weight on his injured arm, Merlin unsteadily got to his feet.

The tunnel was a little taller than him and showed a steady incline. Taking several deep breaths, allowing them to refresh him and replenish some of his depleted energy stores, Merlin moved forward. It took several minutes, but eventually he came to an ending in the tunnel. The light that he had lit to guide him revealed some metal rungs embedded in the wall. Cautiously he peered up the shaft but saw only blackness.

Trying to ignore the way his arm and leg were throbbing from their injuries, Merlin began the ascent towards whatever lay above him. It was painful, but the thought of Arthur forced him on. He tried not to think too much of the Prince, however, and allowed his focus to rest on Sythe. He could use magic to defeat him, he knew he could do it, but there were two things that made him hesitate in creating a plan that relied on magic for its solution.

The first was that currently he was not in a good way and, as Gaius had told him earlier, his magic was affected by his physical condition. The second was that he was unlikely to get another chance to deal with Sythe on his own. Using magic to deal with Sythe this time meant revealing himself to everybody, or at least anyone who was by the sorcerer, which, considering he was currently pretending to be Arthur again, was likely to be a lot of people. He wasn't sure if keeping his magic secret was even an issue anymore; for all he knew, Arthur might tell everyone anyway; he may have told anyone in the dungeons already. If they managed to…_When_ they managed to defeat Sythe, Merlin needed to make sure that was still alive to protect Arthur. He couldn't do that if he was executed for sorcery or, if he decided to run instead, exiled to the opposite end of the kingdom.

Magic was option, yes, but for once, he wasn't sure that it was the best one. Not least because Sythe now knew about it. He had factored it into his game plan; he was on the lookout for it. As soon as he found that Merlin had escaped from Veneficus, he would be alert for the tinniest spark of magic. Perhaps they all needed to slot themselves into the game that Sythe was playing. They needed to look like the game pieces and then turn out to be the ones moving them.

After several difficult minutes, during which time a plan began to form in his mind, Merlin found his head touching a wooden board. He moved it aside and found himself peering out of an arrow loop overlooking the east side of the castle. He turned slowly and spilled out into a small room that looked like it had been used by the servants to hide anything that they couldn't find a place for. It was filled with old materials, furniture and any number of ripped clothes. Absently, Merlin wondered why he had never found this room; he could have added plenty of things to the piles.

Carefully stepping over the discarded items that littered the floor, Merlin reached a heavy oak door. Gingerly he turned the handle, wondering exactly what the best course of action would be if Sythe had posted a hundred guards outside the door. Before he could come up with an adequate solution, however, the door was wrenched the rest of the way out of his hand and he found a sword at his throat.

His magic whispered though his body, but it fell instantly as he saw who it was.

'Merlin!' Lancelot breathed in relief. 'I've been looking everywhere for you. I couldn't wait around in that cellar. I spoke to Elyan a while ago and…' he shook his head. 'Merlin, Arthur's been-'

'I know, I know,' Merlin breathed. Suddenly, all the energy that he had managed to muster for his journey out of Veneficus left him and he stumbled forward. Lancelot caught him deftly.

'What happened to you?' He asked as he leant Merlin against the wall and held him up. 'You said you thought you could defeat Sythe.'

'Things went wrong.'

'How?' Lancelot asked.

'It doesn't matter,' he said, shaking his head and forcing himself to stand up of his own accord. 'We need to go and find Arthur.'

'Merlin, you're not in a good state.'

'I don't care. I need to get to him now. I need to… speak to him. Try and explain.'

'Explain?' Lancelot frowned at him and Merlin felt his throat closing up, felt his eyes prickling. Slowly he met the knight's questioning gaze.

'He knows.'

'What?' the knight asked, clearly not understanding what Merlin was trying to tell him.

'Arthur,' Merlin said swallowing loudly, 'he knows I have magic.'

Lancelot's reaction did nothing to make Merlin feel any better, and he found that the images of Arthur's shock and confusion, which seemed to have been stored away in his mind, rose of their own accord.

'I was fighting Sythe and Arthur came into the cavern. I couldn't hide it this time. I had to…I just…'

'Don't…' Lancelot interrupted, his own face full of concern, but he soon schooled his features. 'Don't worry about it for now. We just have to rescue him and get rid of Sythe. I've spoken to Leon; they want to try and take Sythe unawares catch him off guard and kill him.'

'That won't work. He'll spot their intentions.'

'All three of them are going to ambush him. They'll be quick,' Lancelot argued.

'No, you don't understand,' Merlin told him urgently. 'Sythe is playing a game. A game that so far, we haven't thought about; it's why he can fool so easily.'

'What are you saying?'

'I'm saying that if we want to beat him, then we have to play the game as well.'

Lancelot looked at him warily.

'Please,' he said, 'just trust me.'

'The last time I trusted you, I found you here, barely able to stand,' Lancelot pointed out.

'This is different.'

'How?'

Merlin went through the idea that had been forming in his mind once more, looked at it from different angles, considered the things that would need to be done. He looked over at the knight, the final parts of his plan sliding into place.

'I've got an idea.' He stood there, waiting for Lancelot to accept the words and ask to hear what the idea was. It didn't take long.

'Tell me.'

Hastily he outlined the plan that had been twisting itself into completion. The knight looked unconvinced at first, but soon necessity forced him to go along with the idea and give it his support.

'We need to get out of here,' he said, slipping an arm under Merlin's shoulder and helping him to walk in his exhaustion, although an exhilaration at the thought of the plan was giving him a strength that belied his physical state.

'As soon as we do, you need to get the others. Pick whoever you think will be able to stay the most inconspicuous. Will they be easy to contact?'

'Elyan's waiting in the training grounds for me to reappear.'

'Good. Then it's all set.'

Lancelot nodded, a grim determination on his face, but Merlin felt a calmness about the situation that he hadn't felt before. This would work; it had to work. It had to work so that he could rescue Arthur and try to begin to explain the lies and the deceit and the choices he had made since the moment he set foot in Camelot. This had to work so that he could see a look on Arthur's face that spoke of friendship and trust, not shock, confusion and hurt.

This had to work. Merlin had learnt enough about Sythe to be able to challenge him on a level that he would respond to.

If it was games Sythe wanted, then it was games that Merlin was going to give him.

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	25. Chapter 25

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Thank you for the reviews as always. AnkhianMorePork asked about how Sythe was pronounced; it is scythe as you said. Just a heads up on this chapter: it will make more sense once you've read the next chapter, but hopefully that won't take away from it. Anyway, let me know what you think.

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**Chapter 25**

The opening and closing of the dungeon door caught Arthur's attention. He wasn't sure how long he had been sat there –his dark thoughts had destroyed all concept of time- but he knew it had been a couple of hours. For a second, he entertained the idea that whoever had arrived was visiting one of the other prisoners, until he remembered that there didn't seem to be any other prisoners in this area of the dungeons. He had guessed that Gwaine must have been captured, but he was sure the knight would have tried to get his attention by now if he was anywhere in the vicinity.

Heavy, confident footsteps instantly told Arthur who his visitor was going to be. Sythe. No doubt the sorcerer had come to gloat over the earlier revelation. Arthur tried to rally himself, tried to build up a wall to hold back the torrent of emotions that were currently raging through him like a storm-tossed sea, but it was difficult. He was struggling to root himself in something that he knew to be true; everything was shifting so rapidly.

'Sythe,' Sythe nodded to him through the bars. Arthur felt some fight come back into him and stood up.

'There isn't anybody here,' Arthur snarled back. 'You don't need to pretend.'

'I'm practicing,' he grinned. 'The people will expect some sort of self-righteous speech from me when I execute the imposter; it's what you've always given them before.'

Arthur said nothing; he would not rise to the bait. Besides, it wasn't as if Arthur was under any illusions; he knew that he often came across as a little pompous. He was trying to work on it, but it took time.

'Maybe self-righteousness isn't the right word,' Sythe continued. 'What is it that Merlin always called you?' Arthur felt himself tense. 'Arrogant? Was that it?' Sythe smiled to himself. 'Or perhaps his more colourful insults. I seem to remember hearing Clotpole on occasion. Dollop-head?' He came closer to the bars and Arthur fought to keep his breathing even; he had known this was coming; had known that Sythe would strike at his most vulnerable places, and right now, he had never felt so vulnerable when it came to Merlin. 'You know; there aren't many people who could get away with calling you those sorts of things. It almost makes me wonder whether you'd consider Merlin…a friend.'

'Why are you here?' Arthur hissed, trying to deflect the conversation.

'Yes, I thought you might be angry,' Sythe nodded, ignoring the question entirely. 'But then, that's perfectly understandable. Tell me: what did it feel like down there to suddenly realise that your…_friend_,' -there was a patronising amusement on his face as he said the word-, 'had been lying to you all this time. That your _friend_ had been knowingly and willingly breaking Camelot's strictest law for years. That your _friend_ has kept you in the dark, made you look the fool, made you believe that he was clumsy and weak when really he could kill you with a few words.'

Arthur tried to block out what was being said. He had struggled enough already trying to accept the truth of what Merlin was; he had been doing everything in his power not to think about the things that Sythe was now throwing at him. They echoed the shadowed murmurs that lurked deep in the back of his mind. But he couldn't address them; not now. Not yet.

'What do you think he was planning?' Sythe continued conspiratorially; as if Arthur and he were working together to solve a riddle. 'Get close to you, make you trust him and care about him, just so that it would hurt even more when he finally showed his true colours? He's clever, I'll give him that. Manservant to the Prince! Even I wasn't so bold.' The admiration in the sorcerer's tone made a cold chill sweep through Arthur. Surely Merlin hadn't…surely he wasn't…

'Merlin would not hurt me.' The words were out of Arthur's mouth before he had even registered them in his mind. Instantly he berated himself at giving away too much of his internal struggle. He tried to cover his mistake with a forced confidence in his stance. It only served to amuse Sythe further.

'Look at this,' he grinned. 'The Prince of Camelot desperately trying to believe in a good sorcerer. I wonder what your father would say to that.' He moved closer to the bars and peered in at Arthur, his eyes hardening. 'Tell me, Arthur, if Merlin had no intention of hurting you, then why would he hide his powers?'

'You know why,' Arthur replied, his voice equally hard, this time he could see a way out, he could see a route that could disarm Sythe's words. 'The laws of Camelot would have meant death.'

'So then, it isn't that Merlin would hurt you,' he smiled, 'it's that Merlin believed _you_ would hurt _him_?'

'What?' Arthur asked in confusion. His mind wasn't working as it should.

'Why else wouldn't he tell you?' Sythe shrugged, backing up a few steps. 'He doesn't trust you Arthur. For all the times that you've prattled on about nobility and loyalty and trust, when it comes down to it, Merlin never once believed that you would extend it to his situation.'

'No, that…' Arthur tried, but it was weak. He felt his edge eroding away and couldn't grasp it properly.

'Yes, that makes it all clear. Two men: master and servant, supposedly friends. One who lies and hides behind deception and masks; who keeps his dangerous powers a secret from everyone, biding his time, waiting for the day when he can be rid of the other: the other who is not to be trusted, who is so swept up in his father's blind hatred of magic that even his closest friend believes that he would be executed rather than shown mercy.

'How much Merlin must hate and fear you, Arthur Pendragon. Are you beginning to wonder what other lies he's told you? How much of the truth do you think you know? What do you think he's used his magic for? Surely it must be driving you mad.'

Arthur said nothing, just stood there with his fists clenched, his eyes pouring fury onto Sythe as the man's words began to echo round his head. He tried to block them with other things that he knew to be true, but the more he tried, the more he began to realise that he hadn't got a clue what the truth was anymore.

_Merlin would never hurt him._ Then why had he come to Camelot? Why had he kept his job as manservant when he knew that at any moment he could be discovered and executed? Why had he needed to be so close to Arthur all this time?

No! He shook his head; he would not allow Sythe to play more games with his mind.

'Merlin is loyal to me,' he said defiantly, surprising himself with the conviction in his tone. Did he really believe it? Maybe he had to. 'He has always been loyal to me and he will always be loyal to me.'

'More arrogance,' Sythe told him, but his tone had grown colder. Noise from beyond the dungeon corridor caught his attention and he looked away from Arthur. Moments later a smile carved its way into the man's face; he turned back to Arthur, his voice hushed.

'You think he's loyal? Then let's see if he'll save you from your father's wrath.' He turned away and looked up the corridor. 'Father,' he called, respect and reverence in his voice instantly.

Arthur looked to see his father striding towards them. There were no soldiers with him this time and he looked weary, tired; just as he had done in the weeks before. Arthur wondered if this sudden surge of energy and lucidity was drawing to a close; perhaps he had not been as recovered as he had first appeared, maybe the events of the past week had caught up with him. Arthur felt a new grief sweep through him at the thought of losing his father again. He wanted to try and convince him again, wanted to try and show the man that he had looked up to for so many years that his son was the one behind bars and that the man dressed in royal robes was nothing more than an imposter. But one look at his father told him that it would be utterly hopeless. His face was set, determined, angry; he had had enough of this deception. He wanted it over with, they all did. All except Sythe.

'You captured the imposter?'

'Yes, Father.'

'What about the other, your manservant? Where is he?' Uther asked fiercely.

'I believe he may be dead, Father,' Sythe replied smoothly. Arthur felt himself flinch, his eyes going wide at the words. Dead? The familiar aching feeling that he had grown so used to back in his prison began gnawing into his chest again, all thoughts of the earlier revelation gone for a moment. Dead? He couldn't be…It had to be another bluff on Sythe's part, but then…Arthur had seen how powerful Sythe was; could Merlin match him? Arthur had assumed that he could, but what if that wasn't true. Wouldn't Merlin have attempted a rescue by now? It had been hours since they'd been under the city. He opened his mouth to demand an explanation from Sythe, but stopped himself just in time. It would do nothing to appease his father and it would show Sythe exactly how much the thought of Merlin's death had affected him.

'Belief is not enough. I want a body as proof.'

'Of course, Father. I will organise my men as soon as we are done here.'

That seemed to placate Uther. He nodded and then fixed his eyes upon Arthur. With difficulty, Arthur met his father's gaze. He tried to keep the turbulent emotions and feelings out of his eyes, fearing that they would be mistaken for defiance.

'Have you delivered his sentence?'

'I thought you might want to do it, Sire.' Uther gave a heavy sigh, but shook his head.

'I will not waste anymore of my time on this sorcerer. It is you he has injured and grieved, my son; it is only fitting that you should pass sentence.'

Arthur closed his eyes against the coldness in his father's voice. Nothing would sway him.

'As you wish.' Sythe turned round while the King stepped back, unable, therefore, to see the victorious sneer that was being directed at Arthur. Arthur ignored it, didn't look at him, even as he opened his mouth to speak. Instead he fixed his eyes beyond Sythe and beyond his father, staring at the wall as if his eyes could move it and wrench the bars from in front of him so that he could run and get away from everything that his life seemed to have been reduced to.

Sythe was talking, although Arthur didn't really catch what was being said. It was long, drawn out, full of flowery words and arrogance that, even in his detached state, Arthur recognised as exaggerated impersonations of himself. Even now, Sythe was mocking him.

Taking several deep breaths, Arthur forced his mind to block out was being said and what was around him and the way his very soul felt like it was choking, but something drew his attention. A sudden movement behind Sythe didn't seem to fit with what was happening. His father was shifting uncomfortably in his robes. A gleam caught Arthur's eyes and he allowed them to refocus, just in time to see his father pull a knife from within the folds of his clothes, raise it high and drive it through Sythe's back and on into his chest, right through his heart.

Several things happened at once as Arthur managed to wrench his full concentration back to his surroundings. He looked at Sythe and saw the sorcerer's eyes go wide in pain and then disbelief. He looked at Arthur, almost questioningly, but Arthur knew his own face wore the same expression. What was happening? He looked over at his father at about the same time that Sythe turned to do the same, but the man standing there suddenly didn't seem to be the King. Everything about him had changed. He had backed up several steps, but his hand was still held high, as if clutching the knife. He seemed smaller somehow, as if he had folded in on himself and wasn't sure how it had happened.

'What?' Sythe managed to choke, but he stopped and then, much to Arthur's alarm and repulsion, smiled. 'You played,' he breathed.

'I won,' the King corrected quietly, but the voice didn't seem like his father's; it was too quiet, too anguished, too pensive.

'Not quite,' he hissed. Arthur registered Sythe's gasping voice uttering some words that he didn't understand and saw the sorcerer's hand twist round to face Arthur, but quicker than that, his father was in front of him, blocking the way, protecting him, just like…

Arthur released a slow breath of utter disbelief as his mind finally began to catch up with what was happening.

'Merlin,' he whispered, but as he did, the man's voice, sounding so much like the King and yet sounding nothing like him, echoed through the dungeons, strong and sure. Power- no, Arthur corrected himself: _magic_ flowed from the two sorcerers. Sythe's: a dark crash of force, which caused both him and Merlin to stagger slightly, but which was blocked and consumed by the blue, gentleness of Merlin's….of Merlin's magic.

Sythe fell to his knees breathing heavily as his hand dropped. Merlin muttered several words. Even from behind, Arthur could see their effect. His father's broad shouldered stance melted into a slighter, slimmer frame, and his hair darkened and thickened. About him, the clothes he was wearing changed colour and material into the chainmail underclothes and cloak that Merlin had been wearing before. Arthur instantly saw that they were stained with blood in several places.

Sythe, gasping and clawing at his chest, raised his hand again, uttered more words, but the same shield of protection provided a barrier through which the attacks could not penetrate. Again and again he tried, but his spells grew weaker and soon he dropped onto his side, wheezing and gasping as blood poured out of him and created a sea of red on the floor. Arthur felt a sickening chill as he watched his own body lying on the floor, life flowing out of it. He placed a hand over his chest as an irrational need to feel his heart whole and beating suddenly flooded him.

Merlin took several tentative steps forward. As he did so, he casually flicked his wrist and Arthur heard the lock on his cell door click open; sure enough, when he pushed it, it swung free. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he made a note never to bother locking up a sorcerer. He moved forward slowly, standing behind Merlin who, by now, had crouched down by Sythe and had one hand on the man's shoulder.

Arthur didn't understand the move and, for a moment, he heard Sythe's words from earlier. Whose side was Merlin on? Shame flooded Arthur, however, as he moved further round and caught sight of Merlin's pale –very pale- face; he was looking at the blood and the knife, seeing what he had done. It wasn't that he regretted the fatal blow he'd delivered to Sythe, Arthur could see that; he regretted having to do it at all. He was, after all, Merlin.

'You've lost, Sythe. You need to accept that,' Merlin whispered, his tone gentle, soothing, holding none of the undertones of malice that always laced Sythe's words.

For a moment, Sythe looked at Merlin with something akin to admiration on his face. 'You played well,' he breathed, and then he didn't breathe again. Arthur watched as the mirror of himself on the floor began to shift and change, taking the shape of Theo from the training grounds once more; dark hair, tanned skin, well built and weather hardened. He still wore Arthur's clothes; the Pendragon red looking suddenly unreal against the blood that was coating the floor.

With a shuddering sigh, Merlin shuffled back and all but fell against the bars of the cell; he sat with his knees up, his elbows propped on them and his hands running over his face and through his hair desperately and despairingly. All colour, what little there had been, had disappeared from his face, making him look as pale as Sythe. But there was too much agony and incomprehension written across Merlin's features for him to be anything other than hopelessly alive.

Arthur didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say; didn't understand anything about anything. He saw Merlin, saw him hurting, saw him struggling with what he had just been forced to carry out, and all he wanted to do was offer comfort of some sort; anything at all that would help. But still Arthur remained standing, looking at his manservant, the flash of magic still flitting across his vision every time he blinked, and he found that he couldn't move forward and he couldn't move back and he couldn't move from where he was. They were both frozen.

He looked at Merlin again, and slowly, ever so slowly, the man's eyes rose slightly until they met Arthur's. Neither said anything, but the ice that was keeping Arthur still suddenly began to melt and drip away as he saw the desperate pleading in the man's eyes. He took a stumbling step forward and instantly Merlin's expression changed; the tinniest flicker of relief and hope shone through them, but before Arthur had reached him, Merlin's eyes had closed; his exhausted body slipping into unconsciousness.

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	26. Chapter 26

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: So glad you liked the last chapter, and the reviews were lovely, thank you very much. So, a bit more angst to go yet, but I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 26**

Merlin could hear the familiar sounds of Gaius bustling around their quarters, but he struggled to open his eyes. He felt heavy, as if he was sinking, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. Through his mind, however, flecks of memory were beginning to settle. They were confusing at first, with no order to them.

Finding Arthur huddled in his underground prison; being led to his own execution; waking up in the woods with not a clue as to how he had got there; being stuck in the cellar of The Midnight Moon. But soon the memories seemed to organise themselves into a path that he could follow. He remembered finding Lancelot after escaping from Sythe's enchantment and climbing out of Veneficus. And then quickly, he saw the pieces of his final game plan coming together.

He remembered waiting in the training grounds, hiding himself away to try and gain the strength he would need for the final part of his attack on Sythe. Meanwhile, Lancelot had set off in search of the other knights to give them their separate assignments.

Leon had been tasked with going into Arthur's quarters and finding the chest of spells and potions that Merlin had found a week ago; the chest that had revealed to him Sythe's impersonation. Merlin had given Lancelot as full a description as he could to help Leon to locate it, but there had been no guarantee that Sythe had kept it in the Prince's quarters. Their plan would have failed on that point alone if the chest had not been retrieved, but Leon had brought it to Merlin only an hour later.

The knight had been under the impression –one given to him by Lancelot- that Merlin had found a way of using the ingredients to hinder Sythe's ability to co-ordinate in his disguised body, which would then allow for an attack. Neither Merlin nor Lancelot had been convinced that Leon would believe that story, but they wanted to try it first in order to keep Merlin's magic a secret if possible. Arthur's discovery had been bad enough; Merlin hadn't wanted it extended to the knights as well. For whatever reason, Leon had bought the story with no questions. Whether it was due to the fact that Gaius and Merlin had frequently come up with similar solutions in years gone by, or because he put the same trust in Merlin that Arthur did –_had done_-, Merlin wasn't sure, but he was grateful.

With Sythe's ingredients in hand, Merlin had set to recreating the potion for his own use, while Leon delayed Sythe's visit to the dungeons by telling him there were rumours among the knights that he was the imposter - rumours that he had to deal with. Merlin didn't know whether Leon had followed through on that plan, but whatever he had done, it had worked. Meanwhile, Percival and Elyan were charged with the slightly more difficult task of ensuring that Uther was out of the way. Again, they were fed a story about the importance of the King not being in the dungeons when Sythe's deception was revealed in case he believed it to be more sorcery and turned on Arthur. Uther was unpredictable enough that the two knights –according to Lancelot- had barely blinked when they were given the explanation.

What had followed was a stressful half an hour where Merlin struggled, in his exhausted state, to reproduce Sythe's potion, and waited anxiously for news of Uther. Eventually, Lancelot had raced into Merlin's hiding place, clutching a vile of blood. He had briefly informed Merlin of what had happened, of how Elyan had managed to slip a sleeping potion from Gaius' stores into the King's drink as the servant was carrying it to him; of how Percival had then called him away to deal with a witness who claimed she had seen both Arthur and Merlin. The King had left the council rooms, followed by two guards who, as soon as the King showed signs of collapsing, Elyan and Percival had dealt with before carrying the King into an abandoned room. Lancelot had met them there and subtly drawn some blood while the two men kept guard at the door. They had been left with strict instructions to keep the King where he was in the event that he woke up too early.

By the time Lancelot finished his explanation, Merlin had already added a few drops of Uther's blood to the potion and had uttered the spell that was needed to activate it.

The transformation had been quick and almost unnoticeable, save for the slight disorientation when Merlin tried to manoeuvre in his new body. It had taken several minutes to get used to it, but soon he had been ready to go. He had quickly changed the appearance of his clothes, copying the spell that he had heard Sythe using earlier, and then Lancelot had handed him the knife. They had walked to the dungeons together and hidden, waiting for Sythe to enter, knowing that he would appear soon; he had told Merlin as much in Veneficus, but, according to Leon, had yet to go and see Arthur.

Once he was there, the two of them had given him a few minutes to ensure that the King's swift arrival would not seem suspicious. When Merlin had finally followed him in, Lancelot had stood guard outside to prevent anyone else from entering.

Going into the dungeons had been hard in several ways for Merlin. He remembered that vividly as he lay on his bed of recovery; the memory of it managed to break through the relative comfort he currently found himself in. The first difficulty had been overcoming his physical exhaustion; the pain from his injuries had bled through the magical disguise, making smooth movement very difficult. Every step he took had sent pain twisting through him; he could sense the tension in his expression, but Sythe had not noticed. The second difficulty had been imitating Uther. Merlin was not, by nature, authoritative; he spent most of his time in Arthur's shadow and spent the rest of the time hiding his true nature. Being in charge, dishing out orders and watching situations with a detached coldness went against everything that Merlin was. His act had taken all his concentration.

But by far, the two hardest things had been seeing Arthur and dealing the final blow to Sythe. The defeat on Arthur's face; the desolation in the way he held himself had been evident to Merlin instantly. He had known Arthur for too long to not know when the Prince was reaching the end of his hope. Merlin knew that the whole situation had taken its toll on the man, but he also knew that his lies and deceptions had only added to that burden. Facing Arthur –talking to him- had almost thrown Merlin completely. He had fixed the Prince with a cold and unrelenting stare when all he had really wanted to do was try and explain. He had wanted to stop and ask what this meant; wanted to know if Arthur would ever look at him as a friend again. But he had kept his expression firm, had treated Arthur with the contempt that he knew Uther would have done and then he had carried out the final part of his plan.

He felt a shudder pass through him as he remembered the moment, remembered the feel of the knife as it entered into Sythe's back; how there was so little resistance as it passed through the prone flesh. There was no sensation of victory as he felt it sink fully into Sythe's back and through his heart. Even as Sythe attacked again and Merlin held him back with very little effort, he felt no satisfaction. He did what he had to do to protect Arthur and to defeat Sythe, but all he felt in himself was a revulsion at his actions that he could not ignore.

He didn't fight like that. Yes, he had killed people before -his magic was powerful and generally unstoppable-, and he had always felt a regret that it had been necessary, a coldness that he had the ability to end someone's life like that. He hated himself in those moments, but he had always been able to remind himself that he was in a battle and, had he not killed, he would have been killed himself. This was different. Yes, there was no doubt that Sythe would have killed him had he had the chance –Merlin knew that the only reason he had been left alive in Veneficus was because Sythe had assumed he couldn't escape-, but Merlin had stabbed him when he was unaware and undefended. And he hadn't used magic; hadn't delivered a quick and painless death that would have shown some humanity, even if the sorcerer didn't deserve it.

No, he hadn't done that. He had pushed the blade through Sythe's heart under his own physical strength and then watched the man die in pain and agony. Merlin had taken his emotions out of the event and simply done what he needed to, no matter how cold and inhumane it had been.

His eyes shot open and he gasped as he took in his surroundings, shocked by the sudden sensation of awareness that wasn't rooted in dark memories.

'Merlin?' The voice was gentle and familiar. He looked across to see Gaius working at his table, mixing together herbs that Merlin knew were used in pain relief. Merlin pushed himself up, feeling the tenderness of his injuries once more. He shut his eyes and waited for the wave of pain to subside. When he opened them, it was to see that Gaius had occupied the chair beside the bed.

'What…?' he asked, looking around. Gauis seemed calm, at ease. 'It's over?'

'Yes, Merlin,' Gaius smiled. 'You did well, my boy.' Merlin shook his head, feeling the knife in his hand, seeing the blood. He opened his mouth to say something, to turn down the praise, but his throat closed up and his vision went blurry. 'Merlin,' Gaius told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 'You carry enough burdens as it is; do not add more guilt where you should feel none.'

Merlin nodded, but he said nothing. It would take more than a few words from Gaius to help him get past the brutality of what he had done.

'How long?' he asked instead after a few moments, looking round the room for some sign of the passage of time, but aside from it being bright outside, he couldn't find any clues.

'You've been recovering for two days,' Gaius told him. Merlin felt shock at the news. Two whole days?

'Don't look so surprised,' Gaius chided gently. 'You're not indestructible, Merlin, though sometimes I'm not sure you realise it. Your body has endured a lot over the past week. You needed rest.'

'Two days?' he repeated. 'So everything is sorted, then?' he asked, allowing Gaius to ease him back into a lying position while the physician checked his injuries and tightened the bandages that Merlin had dislodged with his sudden movement.

'Yes,' the man nodded. 'Lancelot took responsibility for the attack on Sythe and the knights believe all that you told them about the plan.'

'So Uther understands the truth about Sythe?'

'Yes,' Gaius said heavily, but he looked a Merlin sadly. 'Everything was explained to him, but he did not take the news well. I believe he struggled to accept that he had turned on his own son.'

'He doesn't believe Arthur?'

'Oh, he believes him,' Gaius nodded, 'but he has taken the deception hard. His pride has been shaken; he is questioning himself again.'

'Again? Like after Morgana?' Merlin asked. At Gaius's nod, Merlin felt his thoughts go out to Arthur. How would he cope if his father had sunk back into the withdrawn and unresponsive state that he had been in only a few days ago? He had struggled enough with it before, but now, after everything that had happened…

Merlin sighed and met Gaius gaze again.

'How is Arthur?' he asked hesitantly, unsure of what answer he wanted. The fact that he was still alive and not burning at a stake suggested that somewhere along the way Arthur had decided that he wasn't an evil sorcerer bent on power and destruction, but Merlin hadn't really expected that anyway. He looked to Gaius hopefully, but the man's face was filled with consolation.

'I don't know,' he said gently. 'He hasn't been here.'

* * *

_Merlin,_

_Gratitude is to be extended to you for your contributions to the royal household and your part in bringing the sorcerer, Sythe, to justice after his recent attack. _

_Taking into account current events, however, it has been necessary to reassess certain positions within the royal household. In light of this, I wish to inform you that your service as manservant to the Crown Prince, Arthur Pendragon, is henceforth terminated. _

_Due to your significant assistance to Camelot's Court Physician as an apprentice, it is acceptable for you to remain in that position for as long as you deem necessary. However, unless you are under the directive of Gaius, Court Physician, you will not be permitted to enter the castle, and your presence at Court sessions is not required. _

_Sincerely,_

_Arthur Pendragon_

Arthur re-read the letter for the third time and then rested his head on his hands, his elbows propped up on his desk. He hated it; hated the way it sounded. The arrogance in it, the detachment, the coldness; he hated all of it, and yet he could not bring himself to screw it up and throw it in the fire.

He had made his decision: he would not reveal Merlin's magic to his father, or to anyone else for that matter, he would not see him executed. It had taken him only a mater of hours to come to that conclusion. After Sythe had been killed, Lancelot had burst into the dungeons and explained everything about Merlin's plan. He had then taken control of the situation, carried Merlin to Gaius' quarters, where the physician, having been brought back from The Midnight Moon, had treated him. Lancelot had then rallied the knights to try and explain the situation to Uther. Uther had come down to the dungeons and seen the evidence of Sythe's betrayal. Arthur's explanation, coupled with Lancelot and Gwaine's comments had assured the monarch that he had indeed been deceived and he had quickly retired to his chambers.

Arthur had been left alone while his knights took care of the situation and reorganised the soldiers. In that time, he had stumbled to his quarters and sat on his bed. He had stared unseeingly at the wall, trying to come up with his next steps, trying to find an explanation for what he had seen. It had come down to two things in the end: two ideas, of which he had to pick one to be his truth.

Either Merlin was evil or magic was sometimes good. The simple ideas had cleared his mind in an instant, had given him a way forward because, no matter how much he looked at it, he knew that Merlin was not evil, which meant that his second point was the only possible truth. Magic could be used for good, a thought that he had entertained on a few occasions in the past. Magic could be used for good because Merlin used it. And Arthur had no doubt about the goodness of his manservant...former manservant. This had quickly helped him to make some important decisions. By the time Gwen came to find him, he had decided not to reveal Merlin's secret, and definitely not to execute him for his use of magic. In fact, as the hours went on, Arthur became more and more aware that Merlin using magic didn't cause him too much trouble; not when he considered how Merlin had used it during his exchanges with Sythe.

With that key issue resolved, Arthur found his mind more settled and calm, to a point where he could aid the knights in re-establishing Camelot's proper order.

What had been infinitely more difficult had been deciding how he should now treat Merlin on a personal level. They could not carry on as things had been before, that much was certain. He couldn't have Merlin wondering back and forth into his chambers, exchanging feigned insults and laughing and joking as if nothing had changed.

He couldn't go back to that relationship, that…friendship; he couldn't bear to try and replicate it again when it had been based on such dishonesty. And it wasn't that Arthur didn't understand the deception; it wasn't that at all. If that was the case, he knew he would be angry, very angry, at the whole situation; the only emotion akin to anger he had been able to dredge up was mild irritation and even that had passed quickly.

Yes, he understood why Merlin had not told him the truth, but that didn't make any difference when it came to making decisions about who a Prince should have by his side. Merlin had been at his side in every situation, through every difficulty and success because Arthur had trusted him above everybody else in the Kingdom.

But that trust was gone now, obliterated, gone beyond all recall. If Arthur was honest with himself, it had never really been there in the first place; he had just thought it was there; only Merlin had known that the notion of trust was a far cry from their situation.

And so even if Merlin was good, even if Merlin had always acted in Arthur's best interests, even if Arthur already felt lonely at the thought of Merlin's absence in his life from this point forward, he could not bring himself to re-establish a relationship that had perished as surely as Sythe had.

He hadn't even been able to draw up the courage to visit Merlin. Lancelot had kept him informed of the situation, of course, and confessed, when Arthur posed the question, that yes, both he and Gaius had always known of Merlin's magic. Arthur had been surprised, again, to feel no anger at either man for keeping Merlin's secret. How could he when he was planning to do exactly the same now that he knew? Lancelot had also shed some light on how Merlin had used his magic over the past few years. In a truly breath-taking account, the knight had explained the selfless actions that Merlin had carried out in order to protect Camelot, but mostly to protect Arthur.

The humility that Arthur had felt as he listened to the stories had brought him to a point of deep regret that he hadn't known about Merlin all along; that the trust, which Arthur now longed for, hadn't been there from the very start, so that everything could just carry on as normal now. Merlin had done all these things alone and with no thought of praise or credit. Arthur had spent several sleepless nights wrestling with his feelings, trying to convince himself that, in light of all that his manservant -former manservant- had done, he could accept Merlin back, that he could allow their relationship to be established again. But deep within himself he could not recreate the trust that he had so effortlessly given to Merlin before. And if he couldn't trust him, then he couldn't have him at his side. It was as simple and as difficult as that.

Arthur re-read the letter once more, folded it and finally dripped some wax on it to seal it. With a sigh he looked towards his door, considering calling a servant to deliver it for him, but he decided against it. He had already been enough of a coward over the past few days. After everything Merlin had done, he deserved to have the letter delivered to him in person, even if the letter was likely to crush him. Arthur knew it would, it was one of the reasons he wanted to pass the job to someone else; he couldn't bear to inflict such hurt on Merlin, but he knew that if he was severing these ties then he had to force himself to see the fallout, he had to force himself to see what the consequences of his actions were.

And, if Merlin wanted him to, Arthur had to try and explain why their journey together had to come to an end.

He put on his robe, picked up the letter and headed to Gaius' chambers.

* * *

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	27. Chapter 27

**Hidden Motives**

* * *

A/N: Just the epilogue left after this chapter, which is a mammoth one, by the way. I was going to split it in two, but I thought that would be mean.

Anyway, hope you enjoy it; it's really the first time that Arthur and Merlin have been in the same place for any length of time; I didn't realise just how little interaction there had been between the two of them throughout the story, so hopefully this will make up for it!

Thank you so much for the reviews for the last chapter. Please let me know what you think of this one.

* * *

**Chapter 27**

The journey down to Gaius' chambers went more quickly than Arthur would have liked and gave him far too much time to consider what Merlin's likely response to his letter would be. He had taken it out of his robes as he walked, turning it over in his hands as he went, wanting, at every turn, to throw it aside, but it stayed firmly in his grip.

When he finally reached the quarters, he raised his hand to knock, but changed his mind quickly. Knocking might give the wrong impression; it was too much like the entry of a friend who had come out of concern for another's welfare. No, he needed to enter as the Prince this time; he had to keep his distance from the situation and from Merlin. So quietly he opened the door, ready to stride in, give both Gaius and Merlin a nod of greeting and then hand over the letter with a brief explanation; he was determined not to let Merlin speak first.

As he looked around the room, however, it was to see that it was empty; neither Gaius nor Merlin were in sight. He was hard pressed to guess where they had gone. For a split second, he entertained the idea that they had both run; that in light of the fact that Arthur now knew of Merlin's magic, the two of them had decided to ensure their safety and leave Camelot. He quickly dismissed the idea. It didn't seem to be either of the men's style.

Hesitantly, he looked down at the letter in his hand and then at the small table where he knew Merlin and Gaius took their meals. Could he just leave it for them to read when they got back? He berated himself for the cowardice in the idea; since when had he been so terrified of facing Merlin's disappointment? Most of the time he was the one that caused it, whether through extra chores or withering comments.

No, he would come back another time.

But as he turned to go, sounds from Merlin's bedroom drew his attention. It was Merlin's voice, that was certain, but Arthur could not make out what was being said; he sounded upset, frustrated. Against his better judgement, Arthur moved closer and soon discerned Gaius' gentler tones as well.

'…needs more time.' The physician's tone was soothing, calming, but it did not rub off on Merlin.

'No, Gaius, that isn't it. I know it isn't.'

'Do not make rash assumptions, Merlin. This is a lot for Arthur to take in.'

'He's had two days. Arthur's decisions are quicker than that. He's made up his mind,' Merlin finished with a sigh, his tone despairing.

'Take comfort in the fact that he hasn't revealed your magic to anyone.'

'Of course he hasn't, Gaius,' Merlin replied in frustration, 'because it's Arthur, and regardless of what I've done, he doesn't want to see me dead. He just doesn't want to see me.'

'Merlin.'

'No,' he argued, his tone desperate. 'I never expected Arthur to just carry on as if everything was fine when he found out. I knew he never would. I'd just hoped that…'

He tailed off and Arthur went through the contents of his letter in his head once again. How could he give it to him; how could he confirm all of Merlin's fears? But there was no other way; even Merlin knew that things had to change; he had just said as much.

'I just never thought he'd find out like that. I wish…I should have told him…I…' He sighed again. 'If I had then maybe Arthur would have been…prepared, or at the very least he wouldn't have been caught so off guard. Maybe he would have accepted me for who I am.'

'Arthur knows who you are, Merlin. You've been with him for years; he's never questioned your loyalty.'

'Until now.'

'You can't be certain of that until you go and speak to him.'

There was a pause and Arthur could imagine Merlin considering that option; he almost saw the shake of Merlin's head.

'Gaius, I've worked so hard. I've given everything for Arthur. I mean, what does this say about my destiny now? How can I follow it if Arthur doesn't want me anywhere near him?'

Arthur frowned as he heard Merlin speak of destiny; it wasn't like him to be overly dramatic. Yes, he could whinge and whine over the smallest things, but when it came to important things, he was realistic and pragmatic. But destiny? It seemed too flowery and sensational for Merlin. Unless of course Merlin knew something that he didn't; felt something that Arthur didn't. Suddenly, his thoughts after he had been rescued from Veneficus resurfaced in his mind. He had sensed something concerning his connection to Merlin; he remembered feeling so convicted that the two of them were meant to work through Camelot's future together; the notion had overwhelmed him; it had been one of the reasons why Merlin's supposed-death had struck Arthur so deeply.

Was it destiny that he and Merlin had met; was it destiny that had given Merlin his powers and ensured his place in Arthur's life? The thought made Arthur feel very small, but also incredibly trapped. If destiny had decided they would be by each other's side, then would he be forced to accept Merlin back even if the trust that he deemed so fundamental was missing?

'Merlin; do not deceive yourself.'

'What do you mean?'

'Your destiny is important, yes,' Gaius said quietly, so quietly that Arthur was forced to creep forward to hear properly. 'But consider your feelings. This isn't about destiny; your part in Arthur's life, the part you both play in each other's lives, has long since gone past being about destiny.' There was a pause and Arthur heard slight rustlings as if Gaius had moved to sit beside Merlin on the bed. 'This is about a friendship that makes the two of you stronger; a friendship that has seen both of you risk your lives in order to protect the other.'

'I know,' Merlin murmured. 'So what do I do Gaius?'

'I can not tell you, but I believe you will regret it if you don't at least try to talk to Arthur.'

'I don't think he'll ever be able to forgive me for this.'

'Merlin, you have spent the last few years believing that Arthur can and will be the greatest King Camelot has ever seen. Don't underestimate him now.'

The words swept over Arthur powerfully; Merlin had said exactly that to him on several occasions over the past few years. In fact, of all the people Arthur knew, Merlin was the one person who had believed in him. Even when Guinevere had seen him as nothing more than a spoilt, rude Prince, Merlin had still believed that he would be a King that they could all be proud of.

Movement from the bedroom and a heavy sigh from Merlin alerted Arthur to the fact that the two men were about to come back into the main chambers. Panic shot through him as he realised that they were going to catch him eavesdropping. As quickly and as quietly as he could, he rushed for the door, but Merlin's voice stopped him.

'Arthur?' he asked, confusion, and not a little bit of fear, in his voice. Arthur closed his eyes together tightly, but then schooled his expression as he turned round. 'What are you doing here?'

Arthur looked down at the letter which was still clutched in his hand. He stared at it for several seconds and then slipped it into his robes before lifting his eyes to met Merlin's.

'I thought we should talk,' he said gently.

* * *

Merlin was unable to do anything other than nod rather gormlessly at the Prince's suggestion that they talk. He backed up a couple of steps, nearly stumbling into Gaius who then retreated to the other side of the room. Cautiously, Merlin sat down at the table, waiting for Arthur to do the same. The Prince looked rather hesitant as he moved forward, as if he was reconsidering, but a moment later he glanced at Merlin's bedroom door and he seemed to have made up his mind. Realisation came on Merlin as he observed the Prince's movements.

'You were listening in,' he blurted out with a suspicious frown as Arthur took his seat.

'What?' Arthur asked, but the way he had frozen at the words confirmed Merlin's thoughts.

'Just then; you were listening in and got caught.' Merlin realised that a strange carelessness seemed to have over taken him. Just moments ago, the thought of talking to Arthur had filled him with dread and now he was purposely trying to antagonise him. Maybe this was his mind's way of putting off the inevitable conversation that he and Arthur would have to have; a way of holding onto their past relationship just a little while longer.

'I didn't come all the way down from my chambers on the off chance that you and Gaius would be having a secret conversation that I could listen in on,' Arthur retorted quickly. 'I just…'

'You just arrived and then decided to listen in on our conversation.'

'This is my castle!' Arthur argued, 'I don't need to answer to you,' he glared at Merlin. 'I just want to talk.'

Merlin sobered up instantly at the words. Behind Arthur, Gaius nodded towards the door and then disappeared through it. Merlin was both grateful for and wary of the privacy that it gave them. This was it then; his chance to explain. He waited for Arthur to start, but the Prince seemed uncharacteristically at a loss for words. That was unusual in itself; if Arthur had decided to talk to someone, he had normally planned out exactly what he was going to say, especially in a conversation of this magnitude.

'You didn't come here to talk, did you?' Merlin said as yet another revelation came to him.

'Merlin,' Arthur said in a tone that was often a warning to be quiet. There was more silence.

'What if I start?' he ventured gently, looking at Arthur for confirmation. The Prince looked surprised, although that was understandable; when had Merlin ever asked permission to talk? Arthur nodded at him and Merlin took a deep breath.

'If you heard Gaius and I just now, then hopefully you realise that I haven't ever been working against you,' he began haltingly. He looked up to see how Arthur would respond, but his expression was unreadable. Merlin ploughed on. 'Please don't think that the fact I have magic means that I am evil and determined to destroy Camelot. It's the exact opposite in fact. I've always been loyal to you. I've fought for you; I've protected you; I've tried to help you. Everything that you've seen in me is who I am. The only exception is my magic.' He sighed and looked at Arthur again, wanting to convey his sincerity. 'I'm sorry for not telling you, but I didn't believe I had a choice.'

'I know.'

'What?' Merlin asked more sharply than he had meant to.

'I said, I know, Merlin,' he replied with a frustrated sigh, getting up from his chair and beginning to pace. 'I know all of those things.'

'Then-?'

'Why did you come to Camelot?' he asked suddenly, turning around and fixing Merlin with a stare. Merlin felt his heart drop at the words. Did Arthur really wish that he'd never met Merlin, that he could just erase all knowledge of him from his head? 'No, Merlin,' Arthur continued with a sigh. 'Don't be so dramatic; that isn't what I meant. I mean: why did you come here when you knew my father's stance on magic?'

Merlin hid his surprise and satisfaction at Arthur's phrasing; had his views on magic deviated from his father's?

'Merlin?' Arthur asked when Merlin stayed uncharacteristically silent.

'Oh, well it was my mother's idea. I was getting too conspicuous in my village. I needed to disappear.'

'So to do that you became manservant to the Prince of Camelot?'

'If you remember,' Merlin insisted, 'I didn't exactly volunteer for that position.'

Arthur just sighed and sat back down at the table.

'How hard would it have been to just _not_ perform any spells in your village? That would have kept you safely inconspicuous. You didn't have to practice magic.'

Merlin found himself staring at Arthur, again saying absolutely nothing in response to the question. He couldn't get over the ease with which the Prince was discussing the topic. Perhaps all was not lost after all.

'Merlin!'

'Sorry,' he shook his head. 'Erm…it isn't really that simple for me.'

'Everything's simple for you.'

Despite himself, Merlin smiled. This felt natural; it felt like their usual camaraderie, even if their topic of conversation was somewhat surreal. Arthur, too, seemed to realise this, but rather than being pleased by the ease with which they slipped back into their usual conversation, he seemed to find it painful; his face smoothed out as if he was creating a mask.

'What I mean is: I'm not like other sorcerers. I didn't decide to learn magic one day. I was born with it; it's…' he shook his head searching for a way to explain it to Arthur. '…it's instinctual. I can use magic without spells or incantations. I mean, usually I do use them -it's much more controlled that way-, but I don't actually need them.' Merlin looked expectantly at Arthur, but he didn't seem sure of what to say. 'Do you want me to show-'

'No!' Arthur said quickly. 'No,' he repeated more calmly. 'So if I asked you to stop using it…?'

Merlin was already shaking his head; it was an apologetic and gentle refusal, but it was firm. Arthur nodded in response; he didn't look surprised; he didn't even look annoyed.

'You can't separate me from magic. It's a part of who I am.'

Neither of them said anything and Merlin found himself unable to look at Arthur. His heart began to race as he realised that they were reaching the point of their conversation which would push them into their respective futures. Merlin didn't know if those futures would be linked.

'Look, Arthur,' Merlin began, 'I know that this makes everything different. I know that you've thought magic is evil for so long, and I know that me having it is an issue, a big issue.' He sighed and looked up. 'But if you already know that I was never against you, if you understand that my loyalty has never been in question, then…' he looked up at Arthur, but felt his heart sink as he saw the Prince shaking his head.

'None of those things are the problem. Well,' he frowned, 'the whole magic thing is difficult,' he shook his head, 'but that isn't it.' Merlin allowed his head to drop and he studied his hands, watching the fingers twist in and out of each other as he tried not to let his emotions rise to the surface, but he wasn't anywhere near as good at forcing down his feelings as Arthur was and it was evident in the crackle of his voice as he next spoke.

'So why did you come down here?' he asked quietly. 'To banish me? To sack me?'

The look on the Prince's face made it clear that at least one of those reasons was why he was here.

'Merlin, you've watched me train and knight dozens of men.' He took a deep breath and turned to look at Merlin. 'You know what I expect of them, what I have always expected of them.'

'I'm not a knight,' he frowned, not following.

'No,' Arthur agreed quietly, 'but you know that the position you…hold,' the hesitation told Merlin enough, '…in that position, you're even closer than a knight. I may face battles with my knights at my side, but I face difficult decisions with you by my side. I face my royal training, the shaping of my character, the trials that will hopefully make me a good King with _you_ by my side.'

He was beginning to see where Arthur was going with this; every word that came from the Prince's mouth increased the desolation that Merlin felt. He knew what Arthur required of his knights; he had been at enough knighting ceremonies to know what was expected of them; he had seen the importance that Arthur placed on every word, but there was one thing in particular that he held in the highest esteem; one characteristic that Arthur prized above all others.

Trust.

Merlin knew it as surely as he knew his own name. It wasn't the magic, or the lies, or the power that was causing Arthur to sever the relationship between himself and Merlin. It was the lack of trust that now existed between the two of them.

'I can't trust you anymore, Merlin,' he said quietly. Merlin nodded, he didn't try to argue.

'I understand.' He looked up at Arthur and gave him the smallest of smiles, but he couldn't hold it in place for very long, it faltered and fell, leaving only the chasm that was dividing the two of them. Arthur had begun pacing again, saying nothing, looking agitated, glancing back at Merlin frequently. Merlin wondered how long the Prince would continue to put himself through this uncomfortable exchange; he usually didn't last this long in emotionally charged conversations, and for once Merlin didn't want Arthur to try and express his feelings in more detail. He just wanted the Prince to leave so that he could lie down on his bed and think of nothing.

* * *

Arthur couldn't help but close his eyes in desolation at Merlin's simple acceptance of the situation. Merlin never just accepted something; he fought against it, tried to turn it around. Arthur had seen his tenacity time and time again.

A voice in the back of his mind attempted to drown out those thoughts. Wasn't this what he wanted, after all? His worst fear had been having to face Merlin's reaction to his decision; he had been dreading having to listen to Merlin's arguments as to why this was a stupid idea. He'd even envisioned the argument that would follow between the two of them, coming up with all his responses, ensuring that he could counter any possible claim that Merlin would make.

It had been important to him that Merlin didn't try to change his mind or succeed in doing so, and now that was the case; Merlin wasn't going to make any attempt to sway him; he had accepted the decision with uncharacteristic deference to Arthur's authority.

And Arthur hated it.

This was stupid; in himself he knew that he didn't want to sack Merlin; he didn't want to force the man out of his life; he didn't want to lose him. He knew that so completely. It was only the lack of trust that was making him follow through on this entire plan. But if Merlin could convince him otherwise…

With a surge of something akin to desperation, which came out sounding more like anger, Arthur rounded on Merlin and pointed a finger at him

'Since when do you have nothing to say?' Merlin all but jumped at the sudden demand and then looked up in utter confusion.

'What?'

'You're sitting there saying nothing. Come on, Merlin; you have an opinion on this. You must have something to say.' Merlin just looked at him as if he'd gone mad.

'What do you want me to say?' he blustered incredulously. He stood up. Arthur was pleased to see that there was some fight coming into him. 'I know how important it is that you can trust those around you and I know that the trust you put in me has been destroyed.'

'Then convince me otherwise,' Arthur told him. 'That's what you do Merlin, you argue with me, you tell me I'm wrong, you tell me what I should do when I haven't asked for your opinion! Well this time I'm asking you. So tell me what you think!'

Merlin just stared at him open mouthed, but Arthur could understand that: he'd voiced his annoyance at Merlin's impromptu council hundreds of times over the years and now he was asking for it. For a moment, it looked as if Merlin was going to refuse to speak, but then a sudden indignation seemed to flood his face and Arthur began to wonder what he had let himself in for.

'Alright then,' he began forcefully, squaring his shoulders and fixing Arthur with a glare, 'you want my opinion? Here it is. Your family's view on magic is ridiculous.' Arthur narrowed his eyes at Merlin's tone. 'Yes, magic can be used for evil, but it can also be used for good-'

'I wasn't asking about magic,' Arthur told him firmly.

'Don't interrupt; I'm making a point,' Merlin told him. Arthur tried to open his mouth to reprimand the man for his complete lack of respect, but found that shock stopped him from uttering any words. By the time he realised that he should probably say something in chastisement, Merlin had carried on. 'So if you had bothered to consider the possibility that not all magic users were evil, then I wouldn't have had to lie to you. You created a mistrust where there was no need for it. What's more, nothing I have ever done deserves your mistrust. Yes, I lied to you, but in lying to you, I ensured that I wasn't executed for sorcery. And believe me: if I'd been executed for sorcery then you wouldn't have survived much longer.'

Arthur felt disbelief rush through him. Was that a threat? Had Merlin just threatened him? The way Merlin rolled his eyes made colour flood Arthur's cheeks; when had Merlin ever threatened him? The idea was ridiculous. 'Not because I'd have got my revenge from beyond the grave,' he told him in exasperation, 'because I have saved your life over and over again since I arrived in Camelot. I'll quite happily give you a detailed account of each time if you want, but you can be assured that you'd have died several times over if I had risked telling you the truth and you had taken it the wrong way.'

'Merlin,' Arthur told him warningly, although he couldn't completely stamp down the curiosity that the words elicited in him, but Merlin was beyond caring now. These were evidently all the things that he had wanted to say for years, and Arthur given him permission to say them; had demanded that he say them! He'd never, though, expected Merlin to say them quite so fiercely. Before he could suggest that Merlin calm down, the man was talking –shouting- again.

'And so maybe you don't trust me anymore, but that isn't because of something I've done wrong. It's because of an unfair prejudice that your father has created and that you've bought into. I did what I could and what I had to in the situation I found myself, and I did it all to protect you. In the entire Kingdom, it is me that you can trust above everyone else; whether you believe that or not doesn't matter because I know it's the truth.' He stopped there, looking at Arthur almost challengingly. He had only seen that look on Merlin's face a few times over the years.

'Are you finished?' he asked, trying to force some authority into his voice; he suddenly felt very much like he was being told off.

'No,' Merlin told him fiercely. Arthur smothered a sigh; he should have known that Merlin would take his freedom of speech to extremes. 'I've got one more thing to say.' His voice softened and Arthur felt the whole atmosphere in the room drop. Merlin had finished his rant; this was the moment where he would make his final case. Arthur listened intently, wanting Merlin's words to somehow change his mind; wanting his friend's wisdom to once more tell him exactly what he needed to hear.

'I don't know why you came here today, it certainly wasn't to talk, I know that much,' he began. 'But I know that it means you don't want me as your manservant anymore. But whatever you do –whether you banish me or sack me- I am not going to leave you unprotected. I don't care what I have to do; I'll disguise myself or set up magical wards, or anything, but I will not leave you on your own facing the sorcerers in this land that really are evil. I have always said that I would give my life to protect you and that won't change, regardless of whether I'm your manservant, regardless of whether I'm in Camelot, regardless of whether you trust me.'

Merlin held Arthur's gaze for several seconds, but then, as if realising how much he had said and how he had said it, he dropped his eyes, the challenge going out of him again. He had said all that he was going to say. Arthur once again found himself at a loss for words. As Merlin had made his last statement, Arthur had felt a deep peace settling on him, along with an incredible sense of awe at exactly how much he had been given when his father had made Merlin his manservant all those years ago. Humility and gratitude filled him as he realised, once again, exactly how loyal a servant and friend he had in Merlin. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that every word the man had just said was true.

He looked at Merlin; his eyes were down -although he was giving surreptitious glances up- and his hands were wrapped tightly together. But even as Arthur watched him shifting uncomfortably, he couldn't see anything other than the friend that had been by his side for so many years; the friend that he not only wanted but needed at his side in years to come. Yes, trust had been lost –and maybe that loss was unfair as Merlin had said-, but looking at Merlin it was clear that the trust could be regained. And this time round, Arthur knew that once it was restored, it would never be broken.

'So let me get this straight,' he said when he finally found his voice. Merlin looked up nervously. 'You're saying that regardless of what I decide or what I say, you're still going to stay in Camelot and use your magic to protect me?' The tension flooded out of Merlin instantly; he had heard the change in Arthur's voice, had sensed that the direction of their conversation now had a different destination.

'Yes,' he nodded, a wry tone in his voice. 'So you may as well keep me as your manservant just to ensure that you get a tidy room out of the arrangement.'

'I haven't had a tidy room since you arrived in Camelot,' Arthur quipped back challengingly at him, familiarity flooding into him with every word.

'Tidyish room?'

'Maybe.'

More silence, a comfortable one this time, but there was still an undertone of restlessness.

'Arthur,' Merlin ventured. The Prince looked at him. 'I will do everything in my power to regain your trust. I will,' he assured him.

'I know,' Arthur nodded. 'And I will do everything in my power to give it to you.'

'Thank you.'

'This will take time though, Merlin,' Arthur continued more sombrely. 'Your magic is something that accept, but I can't just…'

'I know,' Merlin assured him. 'I know it will be hard. I won't push you on it.'

Arthur nodded his gratitude.

'Although we could make a start in the getting-you-acquainted-with-magic process,' he ventured.

'Merlin,' Arthur murmured warningly, he felt panic creep over him. He had seen what Merlin was capable of with his magic and he had only just come to the point of accepting that he had it at all. There was only so much change and acceptance he could cope with in such a short space of time.

'Let me show you one thing,' he said slowly. 'Something that will show you the beauty of magic, not just the destruction that you've seen.'

Arthur eyed him warily for several seconds, he could feel his breaths deepening, felt the blood leaving his cheeks. But Merlin's wide eyed innocence spurred him on. He was the Prince of Camelot, a knight of the realm. He had faced difficulties and dangers all his life and here he was quailing at the thought of a magic trick by Merlin. He stood up straighter. Merlin was right; if he was going to accept the goodness that could be found in magic, he might as well start now.

'Just something small,' he said firmly. Merlin nodded and then smiled at him, a smile of simple gratitude. He took several seconds to prepare, breathing deeply. That only served to make Arthur more nervous, although he could sense that Merlin was equally on edge. This was, after all, the first time he had demonstrated his magic in front of Arthur when there was no danger. Arthur sat himself down on the chair furthest from where Merlin currently stood, hoping that it would relax his friend a little more. It seemed to do the trick.

Closing his eyes, Merlin began to flick his hands in different directions. Arthur waited for him to speak the words of a spell, but he said nothing. Evidently he wanted to demonstrate the way his magic was different, although Arthur couldn't help but remember that he'd said spells without words were less controlled. He pushed it from his mind and refocused. Merlin's eyes suddenly opened; they were shinning like gold.

But despite Merlin's ethereal gaze, Arthur was drawn instead to the air in front of him. He gasped as different coloured lights appeared from nowhere, glowing with beautiful colours that shifted in and out of different shades and tones; effortlessly combining and merging to form new shades. The colours began twist into different shapes and images: a glowing replica of Camelot's castle, no more than a metre high; a magnificent horse at full gallop; a rushing waterfall that sparkled as if the sun was beaming down. Several more, equally fascinating and wondrous shapes appeared and then the colours fell to the ground like rain drops.

Even when Merlin dropped his hands, Arthur couldn't draw his eyes away from the space where the images had been. Eventually, he refocused and looked at Merlin.

'I think you have a lot to teach me,' he said quietly and he meant it. He felt suddenly so naïve. There was an entire world that Merlin was a part of that Arthur had no idea about.

'I think we both have a lot to learn,' Merlin replied. Arthur nodded his agreement and slowly got up, moving until he was in front of Merlin. Slowly, gingerly, he reached out a hand and put it on Merlin's shoulder, wanting to convey the fact that they would do this together.

'I never thanked you for what you did. Without you, Merlin, Sythe would have control of Camelot, I'd be dead; we all would be.'

Merlin just shook his head, but he couldn't stop a small smile from creeping onto his face. Arthur tried to guess what he was thinking. He looked at Arthur and shook his head with a laugh as if not quite believing the praise that he was receiving. Arthur couldn't understand the response; why would Merlin think he wouldn't get praise for… Understanding filled Arthur instantly; Merlin _was_ amazed by the praise. He had saved Camelot and saved lives and nobody had known to give him the credit or to say well done. Arthur wondered how many times Merlin had wished that someone, that Arthur, would just say thank you.

And so Arthur did something that he had never done before, something that he knew would speak to Merlin much more than any other words could. He moved forward and hugged him, pulling him tightly towards him. It took several seconds for Merlin to respond, his shock reverberated around his entire body, but eventually he did. Arthur pulled back after a few seconds to be met with Merlin's stunned expression. Normally he'd have followed up the show of sentiment with some sarcastic comment about Merlin's sensitivity, but the thought didn't even cross his mind this time. He just squeezed Merlin's shoulder and smiled.

'Are you feeling alright?' Merlin asked him when he managed to find his voice.

'I'm fine.'

'Then what was that for?' he asked.

'To say thank you.'

'You just did that.'

'No,' Arthur told him, a smile on his face, 'not for Sythe. That was to say thank you for everything else.' With that, he gave Merlin a final clap on the shoulder, trying not to grin at his friend's ecstatic expression, and then headed for the door. 'Make sure you're at work early tomorrow. We have a lot to do.'

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	28. Epilogue

**Hidden Motives**

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A/N: Here we go then: the final instalment. This is meant to kind of bring it back in line with season 4, with the obvious addition that Arthur knows about Merlin's magic.

I can't believe this is the end of Hidden Motives, I've had so much fun writing it and it's grown so much from the initial idea. You know, the whole thing started with me deciding I wanted to write a story where Arthur is genuinely accusing Merlin of trying to murder him. That's all I had at the beginning! And then all this was the result. Believe it or not, this was never intended to be a reveal fic; I actually remember thinking at the start that I didn't want the magic revealed. Oh well!

There is one mini idea going round my head for a new story, but I think it might have been done a lot before. And I don't know if I'll have much chance to write anyway, so we'll see. It involves Merlin and memory loss. Would you be interested?

Anyway, enough from me. I just wanted to say a big thank you to all of you who have reviewed, especially those of you who have done it so regularly; it really meant a lot to me and was very encouraging. So now, I'll ask for the final time to let me know what you think; if you haven't reviewed before, I'd really appreciate it.

Well, I'm glad you've enjoyed the story. Hopefully this will be a fitting end!

Thanks again,

Laura

x x x

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**Epilogue**

'Merlin,' Arthur called as he walked into his chambers. An almighty crash of metal made Arthur jump –much to his annoyance- as he came in. He looked around, half expecting some sort of masked invader, but was met only with the sight of Merlin looking at him sheepishly, surrounded by a vast quantity of armour, which was evidently what had caused the noise. 'What…?' he began, but he quickly noticed the polishing clothes that were also strewn amongst the metal debris, several of them. 'Merlin!' he said through gritted teeth as he slammed the door shut. 'I remember several conversations where we agreed that just because I know about your…' he lowered his voice, '…magic, it doesn't mean you can get careless.'

'This isn't careless,' he protested, waving his hand and causing all the items to stack up neatly. Arthur rolled his eyes. 'No-one else comes in here without knocking except me and you.'

'What about my uncle?' Arthur pointed out.

'You're keeping him way too busy. Besides; he knows he should knock, even if you are his nephew.'

'The way you know that you should knock?' Arthur asked him pointedly.

'That's different.'

'Yes it is; you have even less right to just walk in.'

'Well if you didn't give me so much work to do I'd have time to knock, but as it is…' he muttered a few words and the armour began polishing itself once again, 'I'm too swamped.'

'It looks like really hard work, Merlin; you sitting there and saying a few words so that your jobs do themselves.'

'This is taking a lot of concentration, I'll have you know,' Merlin protested. 'I just happen to be able to do more than one thing at once.'

Arthur considered arguing further, but decided that he was fighting a losing battle. Instead, he gave Merlin what he hoped was a scornful look and then sat down on his bed, watching his chainmail swish back and forth while the silver cloth made it shine.

He still couldn't quite believe the speed at which he'd become accustomed to seeing magic used in his chambers; it had only been a fortnight since he had been willingly swayed by Merlin's argument to keep him as a manservant and work at rebuilding the trust that had been lost. The first thing he'd done on returning to his quarters was burn the letter he'd written to ensure that Merlin never saw it.

Since then, his magical education had been swift and intense, despite Merlin's assurances that he would introduce Arthur to the magical world slowly. To be fair, the majority of the time it had been Arthur's questioning or requests for demonstrations that had made his learning curve so steep, and Merlin always seemed so delighted to show him anything that Arthur was quite happy to carry on asking things.

It hadn't been completely smooth, however. Merlin had filled Arthur in on an awful lot of happenings in Camelot that he had been unaware of. The Great Dragon being the one that had caused Arthur the most problems, along with Merlin's early knowledge of Morgana's betrayal. That had involved several hours of Arthur shouting and Merlin trying to explain, but what made Arthur more and more angry was the fact that with every explanation, it became clearer and clearer that Merlin had only ever done what he thought was for the best, even if sometimes things hadn't gone as he had hoped. Arthur could sympathise with that; in fact, by the end, he found himself filling Merlin in on a few of the terrible decisions he had made in his past. Merlin, of course, had accepted Arthur's confessions with infinitely more grace.

And the more Arthur heard of Merlin's magical exploits over the last few years, the more he came to regret all the times that he'd called Merlin a coward or made fun of him for his sentimentality or passivity. He had been fighting his own battle the whole time.

That, too, caused Arthur some problems; the idea of Merlin fighting, of him being such a powerful defence against the numerous attacks that Camelot had come under. Arthur had struggled immensely to integrate that person -the powerful warrior and defender of the Kingdom- with the manservant –mending clothes, cleaning his room, mucking out the stables- that he had known all along. He had found himself hesitating before asking Merlin to do a job, or questioning what his manservant thought about such menial tasks. It had become so difficult for Arthur to combine the two that he had taken to avoiding Merlin at the times when he usually dished out his list of chores.

While Arthur was quite prepared to pretend that nothing was wrong, Merlin had not been of the same opinion. He had taken to appearing in whatever rooms or areas Arthur was scheduled to be in just to ask for jobs; something that had definitely never happened before. When Arthur still continued to be uncharacteristically vague, Merlin had demanded to know what the problem was. Much to Arthur's mortification, he had been forced to explain that he thought Merlin too powerful to be doing things as mundane as chores –he hadn't used those words of course; his explanation had taken a good fifteen minutes where he went round and round in circles trying to think of a better way of getting his point across; he was trying to keep his awe and disbelief at Merlin's abilities to himself for fear of the teasing that would follow from said sorcerer.

Merlin, though, after initially grinning at him like an idiot, had explained –much more succinctly than Arthur's preceding explanation-, that he really didn't care whether he was using his magic to save lives or using his hands clean clothes. They were all part of his life; they were all part of who he was and his role within the Kingdom. Arthur realised most tangibly, at that moment, that the phrase 'power corrupts' would never apply to someone with Merlin's humility.

There was no doubt that they were moving forward, but Arthur knew it would be a long road ahead of them. A road that would be made much shorter if Merlin was stupid enough to get caught doing magic.

'You just need to be a little more subtle,' Arthur told him.

'I've managed to avoid getting caught for the last few years; I don't think I need advice from you.'

'I don't know Merlin; I'm assuming that before I knew, you didn't use magic to complete your chores while you were in the Prince of Camelot's chambers.'

'Don't refer to yourself in the third person; it makes you sound so arrogant,' Merlin chided. 'And, no, maybe, I didn't use it in here…much, but,' he continued hastily, 'like I said, no-one will come in without knocking.'

'You don't know that.'

'Yes I do. But I appreciate the concern. I didn't know you cared,' he said with a grin.

'I've told you before, Merlin; it would be a huge inconvenience for me to have to find a new manservant if my old one gets executed for sorcery.'

Merlin grinned at him, but then shrugged.

'Well, you're the Prince; you could probably get me off the hook.'

'Have you met my father?' Arthur asked him, although even as he said it, he found it hard to believe that his father would come out of himself enough to sentence Merlin to death; he had sunk further and further into his darkness since the events with Sythe. It was why Agravaine was here; to try and help Arthur make the decisions that should really be under the jurisdiction of the King. And Arthur was glad for his help; the whole prospect of leading the Kingdom daunted him.

'Good point,' Merlin told him jovially, evidently trying to deflect the darker thoughts. 'I'll be careful, don't worry. Be a shame to get myself killed when you don't actually want me dead. Maybe one day…' he tailed off and shook his head.

'What?' Arthur asked him.

'No, don't worry.'

'Merlin,' Arthur told him, reaching for one of his pillows and throwing it in the direction of his friend. Merlin's eyes glowed gold and the pillow stopped in mid-air. The smug satisfaction on his face made Arthur glare; that was one element of Merlin's magic that really did annoy him.

'Oh, the good old days,' Merlin mused, 'when I had to put up with you flinging things at me.' Instantly, Arthur found the pillow flying back at him, before it veered off at the last second and landed back on the bed neatly. 'I've already made the bed; stop messing it up.'

He set to stacking the armour, which was now gleaming, and said nothing else, but Arthur was not so easily dissuaded.

'Maybe one day what?' he prompted. Merlin shrugged and then sighed.

'There's a prophecy that I haven't told you about.'

Arthur resisted the urge to sigh in exasperation. This had happened a lot over the last few weeks. _There's a magical creature I haven't told you about; there's a time when I enchanted you that I haven't told you about; there's a curse that I haven't told you about._

'Merlin!'

'What? I'm trying to introduce you to things slowly,' he protested. 'You asked me to.'

'How much more can there possibly be?'

Merlin just looked at him. Arthur decided that he didn't want to know the answer to the question. It was, however, another element that he struggled with now that he and Merlin knew each so much more and so much less. The idea that Merlin was more clued up than him about…well, everything, had hit his pride very hard. Gone were the days when he could dismiss Merlin's words of wisdom with disdain. That wasn't a possibility anymore. He found that now, everything that Merlin said got stored away in his mind, even the utter rubbish that the man spouted half the time. It annoyed Arthur no end that he suddenly held Merlin's opinions and ideas in much higher esteem than his own; what did that say about him as a future King? He was supposed to be able to trust his own judgement, not just use Merlin's. Of course, he had heeded Merlin's council in the past, but then it had always seemed like a choice that he could make; now it felt like he just had to assume that Merlin was right. Something he wasn't very good at doing.

It was an issue that he had yet to share with Merlin and which his manservant seemed blissfully unaware of. For that, Arthur grateful; he wanted to leave it until he had found away of balancing his own views with those of Merlin, but he knew that would be a long time coming. Years of believing himself to be right the majority of the time and Merlin to be completely wrong were working against him and it was taking all his effort to try and find a way of turning the two around so that they met in the middle. For now, it meant gritting his teeth and forcing himself to accept what Merlin was saying as correct rather than dismissing it as had been his instinctual response for years.

'Fine; never mind. Just tell me about this prophecy.'

'Well, it's about you and me.'

'It's nice to be included,' Arthur told him sarcastically. He still wasn't completely convinced by Merlin's _Emry's_ prophecy.

'You're going to have to get used to the fact that you and I are linked.'

'Trust me: I'm trying to come to terms with it.'

'Anyway, this prophecy say that Emrys –that's me-,' Arthur gave him a withering look, 'and the Once and Future King –that's you,' –Arthur had to admit that he'd like that title from the moment Merlin had mentioned it-, 'are destined to work together to unite the lands of Albion.'

'You've told me this before.'

'I may have left something out.'

'You seem to be doing that a lot.' He tried to find it in himself to be annoyed at Merlin for it, but he understood what his friend was doing. Merlin had said from the start that he wouldn't explain everything at once, much to Arthur's annoyance, but he had backed down quickly; Merlin, of all people, knew how much Arthur could cope with at a time. 'What is it?'

'The prophecy says that you'll bring magic back to the Kingdom.'

Arthur just looked at him, stunned into silence and fully understanding why Merlin had kept that piece of information to himself for a while longer.

'Me?' he asked; his scepticism more than evident, but the voice in his head telling him that Merlin was right whispered away relentlessly.

'Unless there's another Once and Future King, and I hope not, because I really don't want to have to put up with another royal prat,' Merlin told him wryly.

Arthur ignored the jibe and considered –as he had to with everything Merlin said nowaydays- the idea of bringing magic back to Camelot. Would that even be possible? Not while his father was alive. The thought made him go cold. He'd tried many times not to think about what was happening to his father now, but something deep within him told him that the time of his reign was not too far away. The thought sent grief sweeping through him, but he couldn't deny the feeling.

But even when he was King, would bringing back magic be a possibility? The whole of Camelot had lived in fear of it for so many years. It would take more than a few well meaning gestures from Merlin to convince everyone that magic was anything other than a terrible evil. But then, if Merlin had been using magic for good, what was to say that there weren't other people all over the Kingdom who had been doing the same or who _would_ do the same if there wasn't a ban? He could, however, say the same for those who would use magic for less noble purposes than people like Merlin.

'It would have to be regulated,' he said, almost to himself.

'What?' Merlin asked, his head snapping round in surprise.

'Well it will. There's no guarantee that everyone practicing magic will use it for household chores,' he said, gesturing towards his polished armour.

'You mean you would?' Merlin asked. 'You'd bring magic back to the Kingdom?'

'You've just told me I will,' he said, enjoying seeing Merlin almost at a loss for words. 'That's what a prophecy is Merlin. You of all people should know that. Most of them are about you, apparently.'

'But…'

'Merlin,' Arthur said gently, deciding he should probably put the man out of his misery. 'I have seen a lot of things in the last few weeks that I never would have thought possible. A manservant who is apparently the most powerful sorcerer of the age, being one of them. So if you say I'm going to bring magic back to the kingdom, then who am I to argue? A lot of good could come of it.'

'It could,' Merlin nodded enthusiastically, seemingly beginning to believe that Arthur was actually being serious. 'I mean it would, Arthur. There are so many things that it could help with.'

'But it would take time. It can't happen until I'm King.'

'I know. But…' Merlin shook his head and laughed, '…just like that? You'll bring magic back?'

'Perhaps Camelot is ready for a change.'

Arthur couldn't help but smile at the childlike enthusiasm on Merlin's face.

'I think you're right,' he nodded.

'I always am.'

'If you say so.' He shook his head again. 'You're going to bring magic back to Camelot,' he said with more certainty, a faraway look coming into his eyes.

Well, not just me,' Arthur said. 'As much as I hate to admit it, I could probably use some help. You know: someone who knows about magic; someone who isn't afraid to speak out; someone who can make sure that magic is used only for good.' He gave Merlin a wry smile. 'Know anybody?'

Merlin grinned at him, but then, with difficulty, smoothed out his expression to one of deep thought. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, shaking his head at the same time.

'Can't think of anyone,' he said seriously.

'Don't worry,' Arthur told him. 'I've got someone in mind.'

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**The end**

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